


Serving Something Beyond Me

by moovelope



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Black Paladin Lance (Voltron), Demisexual Keith (Voltron), Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Injury, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, Someone has to unpack all this trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy Animal, Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moovelope/pseuds/moovelope
Summary: After liberating a third of the galaxy from Galra control, the team comes back together to celebrate and figure out their next moves. But taking in a banished Prince Lotor turns out to have unforeseen consequences. Keith is once again thrust towards the role of leader, something he’s been running from for months. Lance is forced to realize some uncomfortable truths about what he wants versus what he needs to do.And Shiro? Let it be on record that he is having theworstday.





	1. Keith

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Helplessness Blues by the Fleet Foxes. 
> 
> Warning in this chapter for mentions of Keith’s near suicide.

_And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be_   
_A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me_

Keith keeps his eyes on his sensors, ignoring the crawling sensation of unease working its way up the back of his neck. He knows the ship following close behind him isn’t a hostile, but he can’t quite convince his frayed nerves. Leading Lotor toward the castleship goes against every instinct Keith has. However, the team has already decided that they owe Lotor a chance with how he just miraculously saved their lives.

Keith’s mind skitters away from the thought. Closing his eyes tight for one moment, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus in on it. Thinking that you are ready to die for the cause and coming face to face with it are two very different experiences. Secretly, Keith feels relieved. He can do it, if he has to. Too many good people have sacrificed themselves to make sure Keith can keep moving forward. There was Ulaz, who flew into a Robeast’s mouth to ensure Voltron a chance to fight another day. There was Thace, who urged him to leave while he remained to destroy Zarkon’s central control. And there was Regris who stayed behind; allowing Kolivan and he time to escape. Eventually Keith began to wonder, “Would I have the strength to do that?”

And he does have that strength. Unfortunately his body isn’t on the same page. He’s still shaky with adrenaline loss, hands quivering slightly on the controls. Gritting his teeth, he clenches the handles tighter to quell the trembling.

He still has more time. That’s right; he needs to focus on that fact. There was so much more he can do for the universe, to fight back Zarkon and his forces. He can still make a difference, he can-

_He can tell Lance._

Keith’s heart clenches painfully.

No, no, why does he still do this? Even…even if he managed to survive another battle against all odds, _that_ situation hasn’t changed at all. He shouldn’t dwell on the familiar ache settling into his chest.

What point is there in telling Lance that- That _what_? That having him as his right hand man made leading Voltron almost bearable? That he desperately misses the training sessions they had late into the night, just the two of them practicing drills and planning? That Keith wanted to rest his head on Lance’s shoulder after however many long fights, just to still the thoughts whirling around in his brain? That sometimes Lance will turn just the right way or laugh or smile and Keith’s stomach flips and his words catch in his throat? What’s the point? Pidge put it perfectly, a few months back. Lance is “disgustingly obvious” about people he likes. He flirts, he shows off, and he waxes poetic about them to anyone who will listen. Keith would have noticed if any of that had been directed at him.

Part of the reason he left was to prevent himself from having his thoughts get stuck on a stupid unrequited crush. Not being able to _do_ anything about it just leaves him thinking endlessly in circles, mind chewing itself up over situations that he can never solve. 

Like he’s doing right now. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. Come on! He isn’t supposed to be doing this anymore! 

He has more important things to focus on. For instance, what is Lotor’s true aim for saving them? Like hell he believes that the Galran prince just so happens to be in the right quadrant at the right time. And that he conveniently has enough firepower to slice through Haggar’s shields like it they’re nothing. What if the Galran radio chatter that the castleship picked up was broadcast for their benefit? What if Zarkon wants the resistance to believe that he’s turned against his own son? Did Lotor shoot down the Druid’s ship to make a good impression on Voltron’s paladins? Because now he’s being extended an invitation directly into the heart of Voltron and Keith wants to call bullshit.

But...Keith sinks down into his chair. Voltron was about to be obliterated regardless, caught in the blast range of an exploding Naxzela. It doesn’t make much sense for the enemy to give up a guaranteed chance of taking out Voltron just to wait for another down the road. Maybe the bomb was a fake? Keith shakes his head. He’s exhausted and his brain is just running him around in circles.

His sensors pick up a white pinprick off in the distance. It doesn’t take long for the castleship to come into view, its shields lowering to allow five lions into their landing bays. Something in Keith relaxes; everyone made it back in one piece. He keeps radio silence as he leads Lotor into one of the extra landing bays. It’s cluttered with resistance, alliance and Blade ships. The two Galra crafts stick out like bruised thumbs.

Keith runs through the landing protocol mechanically as the ship touches down on the hangar floor. Patting down the pouches around his hips, he looks for something he can use to tie up Lotor. Nothing. He vaults out of the seat and wrenches open a couple of the drawers flush against the hull’s interior. The first only have replacement parts, but the second has weapons and a set of handcuffs. Bingo. Keith grabs them and races out as Lotor touches down beside him. One hand on his blade and the other holding the restraints, Keith watches as Lotor’s glass hull opens up and he drops down to the ground. He matches the security footage that the Blades were able to extract from the arena where Lotor rallied the Galra higher ups for support. Up close it’s jarring how _little_ he looks like the average Galra, well, other than the fact that he is entirely purple. The man has a smile on his face, holding up his hands in the universal “don’t shoot” position.

“Turn around,” Keith orders; not trusting what will come out of his mouth if he says more. Lotor’s eyes flick down to the handcuffs. The resulting laugh sends a shudder down Keith’s spine.

“Of course, Paladin. Or would you prefer Blade, now?” he asks. Keith snaps forward, wrenching Lotor’s shoulder around to face him backwards. The handcuffs light up and lock in place. Lotor doesn’t seem fazed as he looks back at Keith. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was a sore issue.”

“Move,” Keith snarls. He jerks Lotor forward by his elbow, weaving through the wild assortment of spacecrafts to get deeper into the castleship. Keith knows from his own experience and the countless reports that he’s read that Lotor is a genius manipulator and strategist. When the team faced up against him in the past, he was always one step ahead of them. It was an endless source of frustration. Lotor also quelled rebellions through his speeches alone, just to turn around and subjugate civilizations the same as Zarkon. Keith doesn’t trust Lotor not to twist his words and use them against him.

“Is there any chance I could freshen up first before our talks? Today has been a very long and...trying day,” Lotor asks lightly as Keith half drags him. Keith rolls his eyes.

“No,” he says flatly. Lotor sighs.

“I suppose I’ll have to survive.”

Keith fights the desperate desire to punch Lotor in the face.

“Not much of a welcoming committee, is there?” Lotor muses beside him. Keith tastes blood as he bites his tongue in an effort to stifle his thoughts.

He knows he can’t hurt Lotor. He knows he’s being irrational. Probably. Probably irrational. But here is the man he’s been tracking down for _months_ , who attacked the team when it was _his_ team, who had been the main obstacle that he wanted to overcome to prove that he could be a successful leader of Voltron. To have Lotor just turn himself in... it’s infuriating. It doesn’t feel like success when it’s just handed to him.

“I don’t think your team members would be too happy to find me with a few broken bones,” Lotor says, cutting Keith violently from his thoughts. He recoils, wondering if Lotor can read minds. Keith has certainly seen crazier things out in space. Then he looks down at his hand, gripping tightly enough to bruise around Lotor’s arm. He relaxes his muscles and continues to walk.

“Truly, I’d enjoy a nice spar. You might make a formidable opponent,” Lotor says as he shrugs. Lotor’s tone rubs Keith the wrong way. On the surface it’s welcoming, but Keith can hear the calculated goading underneath.

After walking through the winding corridors they come across the hall containing the line of cryopods that housed Sendak while he was on the ship. Lotor pulls up short next to him, drawing back for the first time.

“Is this honestly necessary? A regular holding cell would suffice—”

But Keith is already punching in the code he needs on the control panel to the nearest pod. He twists Lotor around to get him off balance and shoves him into the small chamber. Lotor’s expression goes from calm to outraged in the blink of an eye. Glass materializes in front of him, locking him into the pod as the knockout gas does its work. Keith watches as Lotor fights against the effects, slamming his fists against the glass until his movements became sluggish. Finally, he slumps backwards and falls unconscious.

Keith himself slumps against the outside of the pod, feeling like the strings holding him up have suddenly been cut. What he wouldn’t give to just collapse in his bed right this second.

“Keith!”

Head whipping up, Keith first looks at Lotor to see if he’s woken up. But no, that’s stupid; the voice came echoing down the hall. Keith forces himself to stand up straight. Shiro comes jogging into view, helmet tucked under his arm.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes out. “I’m glad you’re alright.” Shiro stops in front of him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. Keith relaxes under the touch, letting the hostility he felt near Lotor bleed out of his system.

“I came as soon as I could, just in case you needed an extra hand,” Shiro says before turning to the pod. His expression darkens. “Did Lotor give you any useful information?”

Keith shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Shiro takes his hand from Keith’s shoulder to cross his arms, looking towards Lotor. Keith wants to share his theories on the seemingly too easy capture, but stops when Shiro sighs. The man looks about as exhausted as Keith feels.

“I think we can figure it out later, now that he’s contained like this. The whole team deserves some rest after today,” he says, shooting Keith a weary smile.

Keith’s eye’s flick over to Lotor’s face through the glass of the pod. He still feels on edge, and it seems like a waste to not try to find out what Lotor’s plans are as soon as they can. But he knows Shiro is right. He tears his eyes away and falls in line beside Shiro who gives him a solid pat on the back.

“You did good out there today, Keith,” he says as the two of them work their way down the hall. Keith fills with warmth at the compliment, thinking about how he and the Blades took down the guards, how he managed to fire that giant cannon to save the rebel fighters, how he flew a Galra ship with no training, flying toward the force field—

His feet stutter and he nearly trips. If Shiro noticed, he doesn’t say anything. Keith swallows against a suddenly dry throat. Under no circumstances can Shiro know about his near suicidal maneuver. The man has enough on his plate to worry about. There’s no reason for Keith to bother him with something that didn’t even happen.

***

The control room is already packed by the time Keith and Shiro get there. It probably started out as a debriefing after the mission, but it feels more like a celebration now. A group of resistance fighters are crowded around Hunk’s chair, resting on controls and laughing together. Keith sees Matt as he animatedly tells them about his experience in the battle, going by the enthusiastic hand gestures. Pidge sits next to him, laughing freely. There are representatives from different planets milling about as well. A Balmeran chats with another alien that Keith can’t remember the name of. Hunk stands next to them, talking enthusiastically. Oh, maybe that’s Shay? It’s been a while since Keith has seen her.

It’s weird being back on the castleship after so many weeks. It wasn’t in the plans for him to come back here at all; he was supposed to return to the Blade of Marmora. It feels…different, like he’s just a visitor in a place that was once so familiar. He tries to shake the disorienting sensation.

Looking through the crowd, Keith spots Coran giving what looks to be an actual debriefing to Allura and Lance, motioning to a star chart that’s color coded to represent Galran controlled territory and liberated space. Their faces are illuminated in tiny pinpricks by the purple and golden stars. Allura leans forward as she asks Coran a question. Lance stands there with his arms crossed, hips tilted, focused. He looks up at the swirling mess, concentrating hard enough to create a crease in between his eyebrows. The light from stars is reflected in his eyes.

 “Look who I found!” Shiro calls out to the three of them, yanking Keith out of his thoughts.

Lance’s head jerks away from the star map towards Shiro, his eyes quickly sliding past him to Keith.

And.

Oh.

Lance’s smile lights up his entire face, eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling with the light of the stars. Keith’s heart soars in his chest. He can let himself enjoy this little thing, Lance being happy just to see him. He tells himself that he shouldn’t expect anything more than that.

Lance shifts and the smile is still there, but it tilts into something more familiar and teasing. “Good to see you back in one piece,” he says as Keith walks up to him and Allura. Coran shuts off the projection as Shiro catches up to the group.

“Same to y—”

“Keith!” is the only warning he gets before someone plows into him, hands grasping him at the elbows so he doesn’t topple over.

“Matt, what are you—”

“Sweet quiznak, Keith, you nearly gave me a heart attack back there! What were you even planning on doing? You just gave me a witty one liner and then flew straight for that force field!” Matt says, his face twists with over the top concern.

 Lance gives a frustrated groan next to him. “Running headlong into danger? Huh, that sure doesn’t _sound_ like Keith.”

Keith tries to bite back the flare of irritation at the teasing. It doesn’t work. “Excuse me if I was trying to save all of your lives, and the lives of the closest ten star systems!” he says as he disentangles himself from Matt’s grasp, staggering back a few steps.

Pidge pokes her head around Matt to look at him.

“Ok yeah, but what were you planning on doing with the force field?”

Keith crosses his arms over his chest unconsciously. “I was going to use the ships momentum to pierce a hole into the barrier, and set off all of the missiles on the ship at once. The field would probably have sealed up afterwards with just the ship alone, but with the missiles going off at the same time it could have been enough to take a small portion of it off line. Then you guys could have gotten in.”

Pidge’s expression falters. “Keith...that would have killed you,” she says slowly. As if he doesn’t know that already.

“Yeah, and saved millions of lives. I guess I have Lotor to thank for that—”

 “Y-y-you can’t just say that like it’s nothing!” Lance splutters over him. Keith turns to glare at him. Coran pushes into the group by tilting Matt out of the way.

“Keith! How many times have I had to yell at you for pulling some risky life threatening maneuver! I should have stayed on the comms with you the whole time!” Coran says, still clinging onto Matt’s shoulder. Matt shrugs him off to turn to Pidge.

 “Seriously dude! We turn around for one minute and you’re flying face first into force fields! What the quiznak?” Lance says, his fist twisted into a fist at his stomach. Keith’s anger claws its way up his throat and flares into something worse, something that usually ends with his eyes watery and his face buried into his pillow.

Still, he wants to defend his actions, to make them _understand_. “I was trying to save everyone! I was doing the right thing!”

“Perhaps, but even doing what is right can still leave others hurt,” Allura says, voice cutting across everyone and leaving them silent. She touches Lance’s shoulder as she passes him, and he takes a step back, his eyes still glaring into Keith’s. “I think what everyone is trying to say is that we’re glad you made it back to us, but scared that was nearly not the case.” She looks past Keith to something behind him. Oh. Oh no.

He turns around to face Shiro, who stands stock still. Shiro’s eyes are unfocused; his hands shaking slightly at his sides. The anger and hurt swirling around in Keith’s gut is quickly joined by guilt. Shiro is the natural born leader of the group; he thinks it’s his job to keep them all safe despite the circumstances. He would blame himself if anything happened to one of the paladins. Keith’s heart pounds against his chest, he feels sick with it.

“Shiro, I...” he starts to say. He doesn’t want to apologize; he knows that Shiro would have done the same thing if he was in Keith’s position.

Shiro blinks slowly, as if coming back to himself. He focuses in on Keith. “No, I-I’m glad you’re alright. I wish- I’m glad you didn’t have to do that.”

Keith’s shoulders collapse downwards in relief. At least Shiro isn’t going to berate him for his choice. At least someone respects his near decision.

“Hey guys! What’d I miss?” Hunk breaks into their tense bubble, almost knocking over Lance as he leans in. Hunk takes a look around the group and pulls up short. “Uh, is everyone alright?” Keith definitely does not want to explain himself one more time.

“I’m going to my room,” he says abruptly. He pushes his way past Matt, who is hugging Pidge into his chest. Keith doesn’t get too far before a tug at his elbow wrenches him backwards.

“You stupid unbelievable quiznak-ing idiot, come back here,” Pidge says as she throws him off balance into her and Matt’s arms. Matt huffs out a laugh through a tight smile.

“Since when did you start swearing Pidge-let?”

Pidge’s arms tighten around Keith’s middle, enough that it’s actually a bit hard to breathe. She continues to mutter what sounds like threats into Keith’s chest armor. Hesitantly, he leans down to hug her back, causing her breath to hitch. He didn’t think Pidge was big on hugs? But he won’t say he doesn’t like it.

“Alright, that’s it!”  Lance says before another body slams into him from the back. Keith smiles into Pidge’s hair at the warmth enveloping him. “It’s time for a group hug, a Keith group hug.”

“I have no idea what’s going on, but hell yeah to Keith Hugs!” Hunk agrees. Suddenly everyone is joining in, including Coran and Allura, squeezing him so hard he can barely breathe. Wrapped up in the arms of his teammates and friends, he feels like he might just melt into the floor. The room is still full of aliens and rebel fighters outside of the cuddle pile, which must look ridiculous. Keith can’t help but laugh. Allura smiles in front of him, someone behind him shifts even closer, and Shiro seems to have calmed down. This, this is what Keith was out there trying to protect, all of his friends who care so much for each other. All of them who, for whatever reason, care about him as well.

Pidge picks her head up to look at him. “Don’t try to pull a stunt like that ever again,” she says, trying to sound fierce. The effect is ruined by her watery smile and red rimmed eyes, and the fact that she stands at five foot nothing. Keith hums in reply.

“I’ll try- oof!” he grunts as Pidge’s fist connects with his stomach. He doubles over and wonders how she can pack such a punch in the confines of a group hug.

“And that’s for scaring me,” she says and wiggles backwards to escape. The hug dissolves around Keith, but he still feels inexplicably warm. Shiro leans around Pidge and places a hand on his arm.

“We’re glad you’re alright, Keith.”

***

Keith smiles to himself as his door slides open; realizing that he’s missed the sound. There isn’t much to identify that it’s still his room at all, except for his red jacket hanging up on its hook and his set of spare clothes folded on the end of his bed. But even without anything personal marking the room, it feels familiar. He runs his fingers along the wall to find the gouge from when he was practicing with his blade late one night. Why didn’t he just go to the training deck? He can’t remember.

Keith considers the clothes at the end of the bed for a moment, deciding if it was worth the effort to change into his customary t-shirt and boxers to sleep. Getting comfortable can come later. He drops onto the bed face first, his hood flopping to cover his head. The pillow feels like home. 

“Lights out,” he says, voice muffled. The room immediately dims. Finally, he can rest his eyes-

A knock has him bolting straight up in bed, heart pounding. Keith glares at the door before dropping back down into the pillow to groan. Whoever it is knocks again. He rolls over and off the bed, dragging himself to the door. 

“What?” he asks harshly, covering his eyes from the onslaught of light from the hall. 

“I was wondering if you had a second to tal- oh! Were you resting? I apologize, I can come back later,” he hears Allura say. Keith honestly was expecting Shiro. He drops his hand to look at her. Her hair is beginning to tumble out of her usually impeccable bun, and the dark circles under her eyes stand out in the bright hall lights. It’s apparently been a long day for everyone.

“No it’s...it’s fine. You can come in.” He steps back and reactivates the lights. Allura strieds in and looks around his room with a slight frown. Keith stands awkwardly, and a bit unsteady, as he waits for her to speak. Why doesn’t he have chairs in here? He needs to get chairs. He has enough room. 

“Keith, sit, you look about a tick away from falling unconscious,” Allura says. She nervously laces and unlaces her fingers. He lets himself collapse onto the edge of his bed. 

“You too,” he offers.

“Thank you,” she says and sits far more gracefully.

Keith rubs his palm into his eye. “If I fall asleep just pinch me or something,” he mutters into his hand. Allura laughs lightly. 

“I’ll try to be brief. Keith, I wanted to ask you...what is your next assignment with the Blades?” 

Keith racks his brains. “I don’t think there was anything specific? Kolivan and his superiors were going to wait to flesh out the details for future missions after this battle, because there were too many different ways it could play out.” 

Allura nods. “When do they expect you back?”

 “Probably tomorrow? It wasn’t the plan for me to come to the castle to begin with, so I need to head back soon.”

“Ah...” Allura simply says. She looks down at her hands, still playing restlessly in her lap. Keith swallows, nervous at her fidgeting.

“Um, thanks, by the way. For earlier,” he says. Her eyes flick back to his. “For...explaining how the others were feeling? Or, just, calming everyone down. It helped,” he finishes lamely.

Allura smiles softly, “You’re welcome. I suppose it was easy to explain since it was a familiar feeling. It is hard knowing that those you care about might not make it back to you at the end of the day. You get angry because you wish things could have gone differently, or that you weren’t there to step in and help. My father...” her voice grows quieter, “I’ve known this war nearly my entire life. But, when I was still young, I didn’t understand why my family and friends had to leave me behind. I was so angry, when I heard of the risks they’d taken, how I’d nearly lost them. But my father took me into his arms, and told me that it was alright to feel scared for those I loved, but that I mustn’t get angry with them. They were trying to protect me, and those they cared for. It was a hard lesson to learn.” Her eyes blink furiously.

Keith sits frozen next to her as she stares ahead, lost in thought. He’s far out of his depth; how do you console someone over the loss of everyone they’d ever known, let alone their entire people?

“I don’t think the others understand that, yet,” he says, instead. He thinks of Regris, of other Blade members he’s lost on missions. He’s only just beginning to learn the sacrifices that came with being a soldier. Deep down he wishes he doesn’t know them at all.

Allura sits up straighter and quickly wipes at her eyes. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to reminisce so much. That wasn’t what I wanted to speak with you about,” she says, sounding annoyed with herself.

“It’s alright,” he assures her.

“Please don’t...be angry with me.”

Keith’s first thought was that he is too tired to be angry. That probably won’t sound encouraging. “Promise,” he says instead. Allura looks over at him, her oddly colored eyes pinning him in place. 

“I know I asked you once before to stop going on missions with the Blades of Marmora, and perhaps I did a poor job of it.”

Keith merely shrugs. He wasn’t exactly mad at what she said, more that it was another reminder of a time when he could do anything right for the Blades or for Voltron.

“But I wish to ask you to reconsider,” she says, voice low and steady.

Keith glares back at her. “What happened to understanding that you can’t keep everyone safe? I’m not going to sit around and do nothing just because I had a close call—”

“No, I wouldn’t ask you to stay if I didn’t think that you could serve a purpose here. I wouldn’t do that to you. The reason I want you to stay is to aid us with Prince Lotor.”

Keith blinks, “What could I do about Lotor?” 

“You are the one who knows him the best, from your research. You also...how do I say this,” she pauses, brow furrowing. “You do not trust easily.”

Keith’s heart lurches painfully as he looks away. He knows that it’s true; he knows he has trouble connecting with others. Having it pointed out tears at his confidence. “What does that—”

“It is not a bad thing, sometimes. I know that I can be overly optimistic. I search for the best in people, it gives me hope. But I fear that is something Prince Lotor knows how to exploit quite easily. You have always been more wary, your eyes watch for what is happening behind the surface of things. How did Hunk put it...waiting for the other glove to fall?”

“The other shoe to drop,” he corrects quietly. She snaps her fingers. 

“Ah yes, that’s what it was. I want to trust myself and the others that we won’t be deceived by him, but I can’t leave that up to risk. Keith, we need your cautiousness, and your skepticism. We need you here.”

She leans over and takes his hand. He looks down at the contrast between their skin, and then the contrast of the armor they wear. He has spent the past few weeks trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need to be part of Voltron. He can be useful to the Blades and still help fight against Zarkon. But…it’s slowly been getting to him. He’s sick of the solitary nights in the barracks and the impersonal distance between him and his fellow Blades. He is becoming too comfortable with the idea that if he messes up on a mission, no one is coming in after him.

Keith grips Allura’s hand tighter. It’s selfish, he knows it is. But he wants to be more to people than just useful.

“I know this will sound self-contradictory, after talking about how you must let others go to make dangerous decisions for the greater good but...please know that we all missed you. And it would be wonderful to have you back.”

Keith’s breath catches in his throat. It will probably be short lived. He can’t believe they’ll want him back forever, but for now he can just enjoy this.

“I’ll comm Kolivan in the morning and let him know I’m staying.”


	2. Lance

Lance’s hands begin to cramp as they clench tightly around the controller. He sits hunched over in the dark of his room, mashing buttons as his fingers ache. He’s this close, _this close_ to getting past Matt’s high score. Did Matt spend weeks playing Killbot Phantasm I? No. He happily waltzed in with Pidge on their grand tour of the castle, saw the game, and managed to set a high score in just one sitting. Lance is going to beat him even if his fingers have to fall off in the process.

His sweaty palms prove to be his downfall though, as his fingers slip over a key combo. The familiar game over screen flashes in front of him. Lance slumps forward. Fine. _Fine!_ If that’s how it’s going to be! Lance resists the urge to toss the controller across the room in defeat.

He turns off the console and stands to stretch and _oh god_ sitting in a cramped position on the floor for hours **_after being electrocuted_** is the worst idea ever? Lance groans as he leans backwards to crack his back in three different places. He popped the alien equivalent of an ibuprofen earlier but it didn’t do a lot, every inch of him still feels like he’s been beaten up. But he can’t complain too much, the ship’s healing pods are filled with people who have far worse injuries from the battle. All he has are the sore muscles, the occasional spasm (is that normal after electrocution??) and a small cut on his knuckle that he actually got the day before by accidentally catching his hand on the edge of a counter. 

Still, he sorta wishes he could hop into one of the pods just so they can knock him out. His mind is racing hours after their escape from Naxzela and _Will. Not. Shut. Up._ He can’t fall asleep, even with his usual routine skincare regiment, eye mask and sound canceling headphones. He just wants to flop on his bed and not move an inch but then it’s just him and his thoughts and he _really_ doesn’t want to be stuck in his head tonight. Without the video game as a distraction it’s a losing battle. He carefully navigates around the mess of equipment in his room to plop down on his bed.

What’s keeping him up at this ungodly hour after a long and hard battle? Three points if you guessed the local mulleted renegade. Lance groans into his hands. He just…can’t stop thinking about what Matt said. Keith almost sacrificed himself for everyone. Which, okay, Lance and the team have come pretty close to dying too, like, multiple times. He isn’t going to forget that. But... but those were things that they were united in fighting against. They fought hard not to die; they didn’t fly right into it!

And god. That _moment_. Of looking at Keith and knowing that he came this close to not making it back to the castle. It was like shards of ice shattering in Lance’s stomach. And he _knows_ what that sensation is. He knew when he was in the middle of the group hug, pushing himself even closer into Keith to feel him breathing. It was a bottomless and sudden terror that tore through him. It was the pulse pounding fear of flying in Voltron not knowing if the team was going to make it, but deeper. When he faces his own existential realization that he might die he doesn’t usually have a lot of time to reflect on it, he’s far too busy piloting his Lion. But knowing after the fact that Keith nearly killed himself...it makes him feel like he’s hollow. He balls a fist into his stomach to push at the phantom pain.

None of this would have happened if Keith was still an active part of the team. Somehow, everything would’ve gone a lot smoother. Lance would yell at him to pull his head out of his ass and they would have taken out Haggar’s plans some other way. Probably. 

Flopping down onto his back, Lance stares up at the little bits of glowing algae Pidge found a while ago and let him use like glow in the dark stars. He sighs, and feels a tug at his chest along with the movement of his lungs. One of the algae is coming loose above him so he reaches up to push it back in place. He needs to think about something else, anything else.

Here is a thing that sucks: Lance gets crushes easily. Like, super easily. Like, his mom never stops talking about how he had a crush on 75% of his class one year in elementary school. In his defense they weren’t all at once. One week it would be Elizabeth, the next Marco. The point _being_ that Lance finds it easy to be attracted to people. 

Like Allura! With Allura it started the moment she fell into his arms from her pod. She was gorgeous, she was a princess, and when she looked up into his eyes he knew he was done for. Since then he’s learned that not only is she beautiful, she’s strong, and fearless, and kind. She’s perfect, who _wouldn’t_ fall head over heels for her?

But there are also so many attractive aliens. So many people out in the _universe_ and Lance can’t help but think “Hey this person is cute, what if?” Because it’s fun to imagine himself as a hero, saving a gorgeous alien and getting a kiss before flying off into the sunset back towards the castle. Almost all of his crushes are short lived, but each give his chest a fun little jolt when he manages to catch the person’s interest. 

And then there’s Keith. 

The thing with Keith is that Lance doesn’t even _want_ to have a crush on him! Usually Lance gets knocked sideways when he first meets someone and he knows he’s heading right into crush territory. With Keith it was...something that crept up on him. Maybe at the beginning it was all genuine annoyance and jealousy directed towards Keith. But somewhere down the line the anger mellowed out and he just…wanted Keith’s attention. So he kept up with the jibes and the insults because that’s what kept Keith focused on him. And then he tumbled into a horrifying revelation that Keith was maybe cute? Sometimes? In the right angles? And then everything went to shit.

And that’s the thing! Keith?? Is attractive? Lance didn’t notice _at all_ at first because he was too busy focusing on surpassing Keith. But when he actually took a second to look, he noticed it piece by piece. He noticed the curve of his smile, the strength of his shoulders, and the confidence in his movements. And his eyes, holy shit? Like, Lance didn’t notice Keith’s eyes because the idiot has his bangs all the way down to his nose but when he did notice them, well. At that point he admitted that Keith fell squarely in the crush zone. 

But it sucks! Because there is no way in hell Lance is going to flirt with Keith just for him to think it was a joke and tell him to shut up. Or maybe Keith won’t think it’s a joke and would just get angry with him. There’s no way for it to end with Keith being interested in him too, that’s for sure. Lance rubs a hand along his face. This line of thought isn’t helping him fall asleep either.

“Alright, new plan,” Lance mutters to himself. He sits up and rolls off his bed. The closet hidden behind the panels in the room opens up so he can grab his Altean robe and Lion slippers. Lance also grabs his communicator Pidge gave him and shoves it into his pocket. Tonight’s going to be a sleepover night, if he has any say about it. 

First thing he needs to do is find Pidge, who _definitely_ isn’t going to be asleep yet. She doesn’t sleep on normal nights, but after intense battles it messes her sleep schedule up even worse. Lance has tripped over her body in tons of odd places around the castle, the youngest member of the team passing out wherever she’s working. He heads towards the Green Lion’s hangar which doubles as Pidge’s workroom. 

Pidge is surrounded by huge hunks of metal and wiring next to her desk, head hidden under what looks like a welding mask. Small sparks shoot up from the project she’s working on. Her head perks up when she hears the automatic doors slide shut behind Lance. 

“What,” she says, her voice flat behind the welding mask. Lance sighs, he’s dealing with tired _and_ cranky Pidge, then.

“What are you working on?” Lance asks as he walks around the project. Pidge pushes the visor up and smirks.

“Oh this? Just a little something I’m cooking up for Zarkon. You see, I took the idea that the Olkari gave me for—” she starts off at five lightyears a minute. Lance lets her excitedly explain the machine as he zones out, it’s not like he’ll understand what she’s saying if he pays attention anyway. She looks a bit happier when she finishes. 

“That sounds cool! But hey, I was thinking. Tonight feels like a slumber party night. How about it?” he asks and wiggles his eyebrows at her. Her face falls, annoyed.

“I’m on a roll here, Lance. I can’t just drop this and go watch movies with you and Hunk.”

“Ok, yeah but you’re exhausted and you’re about to weld your hand into that thing,” Lance points out. Pidge jerks the blowtorch away from herself. 

“Oh! Dang it. Wait I’ll turn this off,” she places the torch next to her and rests her face against the cool metal of her desk. “Ughhh fine. Sleepover it is.”

Lance gives a half-hearted fist pump, his muscles still too sore to move any further. “That’s the spirit. Alright, let’s go.” Pidge doesn’t move. “I meant in _this_ reality.” He says, imitating Slav’s accent. Pidge snorts violently. 

“I wanna go but I don’t want to _move_ ,” she complains. Lance huffs. 

“If you wanted a piggy back ride so bad you could just say!” He says, trying to sound exasperated. Pidge’s head perks up. 

“Well, if you’re offering,” she scrambles up Lance’s back before he can blink. The two of them nearly topple over as she throws them off balance. It was a lot different when Lance was doing this for his five year old nephew, instead of a fifteen year old Pidge. He grips her legs tight and shifts her higher up on his back as they head out of the hangar. 

“Woah there! Don’t break my neck before we even get there. Did Matt used to carry you around when you were little or something?”

Pidge snorts in his ear. “Matt? Are you kidding? He was a scrawny little nerd back on earth.”

“Well, so were you,” Lance points out. He shrieks when Pidge jabs him in the side.

“Are you kidding? I was the stronger sibling. If Mom and Dad had let me beat up his bullies I would have. Instead I just lifted all of his laptops and equipment for him,” she laughs. He’s glad that she’s able to talk about her family again, now that she has Matt on the castle with them.

“So it’s always been your job to save him, huh?” he jokes. Pidge falls silent behind him. “Pidge?”

She takes a shaky breath into his ear, “Yeah, I guess it was. Sorry, can you let me down?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Lance kneels down to let Pidge slide off. She pushes her glasses up into her bangs and rubs her eyes. 

“Ugh, sorry, this is stupid,” she mutters into her hands. Lance scrambles to figure out what he said that upset her. Him and his big mouth.

“No, it’s not stupid...uh, but you gotta tell me what it is so I can really tell you how not stupid it is.”

Pidge looks away, back towards Green’s hangar. “It’s just...when I was searching for Matt, he left his communicator at—” she pauses to collect herself, “At a gigantic battlefield graveyard. I found a gravestone with his name on it there and…and for a few minutes I thought I was too late, that I’d lost him for good.” She takes her glasses off her head to clean them with her shirt, looking at them instead of Lance. “Afterwards I realized he’d left coordinates to find him there, but. I guess I just can’t get the image out of my head. And when we heard about Keith earlier I just... I could just imagine that gravestone with his name on it. Or any one of you guys. It just, I dunno, solidified in my mind how bad things could go.”

The empty feeling takes hold of Lance’s chest again. He can’t even imagine it, searching across the galaxies for his family only to find a grave. He’s not sure he’d be able to bounce back from that as well as Pidge has. He places a hand on Pidge’s shoulder.

“We’re gonna have to try real hard to make sure that doesn’t happen, then,” Lance says with as much confidence as he can muster. Pidge rolls her eyes. “But, really. All of us are going to try hard to stick together and make it through this in one piece. That’s what families do, right?” 

Pidge looks up at him and smiles, “Yeah. Gotta work hard to protect my Voltron family.”

“Exactly. Now come on, let’s go bother Hunk.”

When they get there, the two of them knock obnoxiously on Hunk’s door until it slides open for them.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Hunk asks sleepily from his bed, propped up on pillows with his communicator projecting a video in front of him. Pidge pushes past Lance into the room. 

“It’s a sleepover night. Can you move the Altean cube bed for us?” she asks. Hunk turns to Lance as Pidge opens up the hidden closets for extra pillows and blankets.

“Aww, if it’s sleepover night, why didn’t you bring the snacks?” he asks as he rolls off the bed. He’s wearing his matching yellow Altean pajamas.

“Sleepovers are for sleeping, not snacking!” Lance huffs.

Hunk lifts the square foot cube from the corner of his room to place it down next to his bed. It weighs roughly the same as Pidge and Lance combined, which is why it lives in Hunk’s room. He’s the only one strong enough to move it. “That’s not what you said last time after I made all of those snacks for the Agravan ambassadors and you said we needed them for our slumber party.”

Pidge cuts in, “Or the time before that when you said sleepovers were for gossip so you could just talk about how pretty Plexi was—”

“Plaxum!”

“Fine, her. You talked about how pretty she was the entire night.”

“I don’t know why I take this abuse!” Lance complains as he hits the button on the side of the cube. The thing expands immediately to the same height and length as Hunk’s bed, the material only a step above horrible gym mats. Pidge throws the bedding supplies she pilfered onto the bed and jumps on top of it. “No come on! We gotta make the bed first. Not all of us _nest_ instead of sleep.”

“Are you calling me bird like or messy?”

“Yes,” Lance answers simply and pushes her off the bed. In two short seconds he has it made, snapping the sheets in place with the flick of his wrists. He silently thanks the Garrison for the one useful thing they taught him to do. He jumps in first to get the spot next to Hunk, Pidge getting in on the outside. Lance always gets the middle because Hunk likes to roll in his sleep sometimes, and Pidge doesn’t want to get squished in the middle of the night.

“So what are we watching tonight?” she asks, settling in.

“Oh, I was getting into a documentary about this planet’s vegetation that turns pink during one season, but blue the next. It’s really relaxing.”

Lance rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. He was hoping for a regular movie but he’ll take what he can get. Pidge dims the lights as Hunk starts his documentary back up. His communicator projects it in the air in front of them, filling the whole room with soft pastel light.

Lance lets his mind wander as the documentary drones on, unable to understand a word of the language and too lazy to read the subtitles Hunk programmed in. He loves nights like these, warm and snuggled up between his friends. He knows Pidge needs to get her mind off of work sometimes, and dragging her to movie nights gives her something else to focus on. Same with Hunk, but he needs the distraction from his anxiety more than anything else. Having other people around helps with that, Lance can feel the tension slowly disappearing from the body beside him. 

And maybe Lance likes being able to lie down, sandwiched between two people he cares about. It reminds him of home, sharing a bed with his older siblings on vacations, staying up after dark to read comics under the blankets with a flashlight. It calms some racing piece inside him, allowing his mind to rest. He wonders what movie night can do for the others. 

“Why don’t we ever invite Keith?” he mumbles into Hunk’s arm. The arm shrugs. 

“Dunno. I don’t think he’d like it? He’d rather be beating something up, right?” Hunk replies absently. 

“And he’s the lone wolf, remember? He likes doing stuff on his own,” Pidge adds, voice drifting. 

Neither idea sits well with Lance. 

“We can still invite him, though,” he objects. Pidge snorts softly. 

“The two of you would bicker the entire time. You’d complain that he was taking up more room on the bed or something. Of course he’d rather be by himself.”

Lance’s stomach drops. 

What if...well of course Keith doesn’t want to be around people who make fun of him all the time. And isn’t that what Lance does? Some of it is playful teasing, like what he does with Pidge and Hunk. But the rest of the time it’s easier to throw insults and taunts towards Keith because it’s safer than saying “I caught a flash of your abs when you were fighting that gladiator and I nearly swallowed my own tongue and died.” He can see in his mind how he’d react to Keith joining them. Lance would internally freak out because their elbows touched or something stupid like that and then he’d start up a competition to distract Keith, which would turn into a screaming match. Keith would then storm out of the room and Lance’s small crush would be safe.

But god, all of that bullshit just pushes Keith away, and that’s not fair to him. And...maybe that’s part of the reason he left for the Blades? Crushes aren’t supposed to _hurt_ people. Most of Lance’s flirting just ends with him getting shot down or ignored, so it’s not like it bothers the other person. But he’s been pushing Keith away from him, and the group, because of this stupid thing. He sighs quietly in the room and neither Pidge nor Hunk notice. 

Well, he’s just going to have to be nicer to Keith then, huh? Not _all_ the time, obviously, but he needs to stop being nasty to Keith just so that he doesn’t catch on to the fact that Lance has a small crush on him. Yeah, that will work. 

Resolved, Lance rolls over and away from Hunk, getting comfortable. Pidge is softly snoring next to him. Lance lets himself imagine how the night would have gone if they _did_ invite Keith. He’d definitely make Keith sleep next to Hunk, just so he could be the one to get squished if Hunk rolls over too fast. It’s already happened to Lance twice. Then Lance would be next to him and Pidge on the outer edge so she can get up early and not wake the others.

It’ll probably be a bit too cramped with four of them sharing two beds. They’d be packed in like sardines. The thought of curling up next to Keith flits through Lance’s mind: their arms touching under the blankets, Keith sleepy and not on edge for once. A shiver of warmth works its way down Lance’s spine, and he hides his smile into the pillow. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of daydreaming, right? 

***

Lance, as usual, is the last one up in the morning. He makes a detour to his room first to grab some proper clothes, and then heads down to the dining hall. Most of the chairs are already full with alliance members, but he spots a few humans at the end of the table. Hunk flags him down and gestures to an open seat next to him with a plate of food sitting in front of it. Lance grins.

“My man, Hunk! What would I do without you,” he says as he drops heavily into the seat. Pidge and Matt sit across from them, looking at some calculations Pidge has projecting from her comm screen. Lance recognizes it as a complicated map of Galra force movements.

“You’d be eating nasty goo right now, that’s what. Tell me how you like this recipe, I adjusted the amount of the pseudo-sugar I used this time,” Hunk says as Lance digs into the alien equivalent of mini-pancakes. He groans happily. 

“They’re **awesome** dude.”

Hunk puffs up a bit in pride. “Aw, I’m glad you like them. I think I’m finally getting the hang of some of these ingredients.”

Lance nods enthusiastically as he shovels more of the pancakes into his face. He freaking loves Hunk’s cooking. “Do you think we can try to make syrup next?” he says, mouth still full. Pidge pulls a face in front of him. 

“Ugh gross, Lance.”

Lance grins at her before he finishes his mouthful. He looks up and down the table for a sign of Allura or Shiro. “So, what’s the plan for today? Any search and rescue missions? Supporting rebellion groups?”

“Nah. I think we’re all taking it easy until someone decides to defrost the purple prince,” she replies.

“Hellll yes. Fingers crossed we keep him out for a while. I need a day off after yesterday.”

“I think everyone’s on that wavelength!” Matt says, looking away from the simulation in front of him. “Except for Keith, saw the guy heading towards your training deck this morning. He really doesn’t take a break, does he?” Matt laughs. 

Pidge’s brows furrow. Lance wonders if she’s worrying about Keith too. 

“That does sound like him,” Lance says before the silence grows awkward. “Do you think he ate anything this morning?”

“I got here pretty early, and I didn’t see him then,” Hunk says as he looks down at his food. Lance nods.

“I could bring him some; the guy’s probably been wasting away at the Blade of Marmora without your cooking.” Hunk smiles and quickly covers a plate of the mini pancakes, some extra space fruit and one of the little juice cartridges they use during training. The gang wave to him as he leaves with the dish, continuing their discussion of tracking Galra communications.

It doesn’t take too long for Lance to make it to the training deck’s control room above the main floor. He’s made the mistake two or ten times of walking in on Keith in the middle of his training unannounced and nearly had his head cut off for his troubles. After a bit of trial and error, he learned to wait until Keith is done with whatever drill he’s hacking away at to talk over the loudspeaker and ask if he wants company. It’s been...awhile since he joined Keith in the training room. At one point they ran drills until they became a well-oiled machine, taking down the expert level programming like it was nothing. But then Keith started to go on more Blade missions, and maybe Lance didn’t follow him onto the training floor even when he was there, because if Keith didn’t want to spend time with them (him) then why should he go out of his way to seek him out? Looking back on it, Lance wishes that he hadn’t been so stubborn. He sighs, placing the plate down on the chair next to him so he can focus on Keith’s training. 

And Keith...ok maybe it _has_ been awhile since Keith and he trained together because holy shit. Keith isn’t using his bayard on the gladiators. Which yeah, duh, of course he isn’t, Lance has the red and Shiro has the black one now. Keith is using his Marmoran blade, still in its smaller form. With such a short weapon his range is ridiculously small, but Keith weaves his way in close to his opponents with ease. He looks like he’s in the middle of a complex dance among them, spinning and ducking with practiced grace. Lance watches as Keith swipes his blade through a gladiator and spins towards the next one, his knife twirling forward through the air. Keith catches it just in time to plunge the blade into the gladiator’s back, running past it to take out one final opponent.

Before the last gladiator hits the deck Lance has his finger on the intercom button. “When did you become an actual literal ninja??” He yells into the mic. Keith jumps, looking up from the gladiator at his feet to the control booth. He’s wearing his regular t-shirt, pants and boots combo, which is oddly comforting after seeing him in his Blade suit yesterday.

“Lance?” his voice is projected up into the room. He looks...well, he looks as though he didn’t expect to see Lance at all.

“I’m heading down,” Lance says. Does Keith think Lance doesn’t want to spend time with him or something? Or does he not want Lance there to begin with? Well, there’s only one way to find out, he thinks, as he bounds across the training deck floor.

“Why are you—?” 

“That was amazing! Keith, holy shit that thing you did with the knife, I don’t even know how I could even see everything, it went so fast but like, you caught it in the air just to stab into that last gladiator with your _opposite hand_ ,” Lance cuts him off, a little breathless from running down the two flights of stairs and gesturing with his hands to illustrate Keith’s movements.

Keith stares at him, utterly bewildered. “What?” he chokes out. 

Lance stops short, realizing the barrage of praise he just threw at Keith. He feels his face warm up- oh no he had to downplay that somehow uh um… he could tell Keith that he could do better with his rifle? Or uh—

No wait. This is what he needs to stop. He honestly thought that was amazing, and he doesn’t need to bury his compliments under five layers of misplaced bravado and insults. He takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. “Just, it’s cool to see you in action again. That was awesome.” There, being nice isn’t so hard. 

Keith blinks at him in confusion before his expression brightens up. “Oh, uh. Thanks,” he says, letting his lips quirk up in the corner with the tiniest of smiles. 

Lance doesn’t move a muscle, keeps his face as neutral as he can because internally he’s scrambling. How. How the _hell_ is he going to keep this up when one little smile from Keith feels like a punch to the chest? He desperately wants to make a joke or push Keith over or maybe just turn right around and walk out the training deck door.

Instead he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand and takes a couple more quick breaths. He can do this.

“So, did you need me for something? Are they taking Lotor out of the pod soon?” Keith asks as he turns to clear away the obstacles he was using from the training deck floor. Lance frowns. 

“No, just heard you were training and decided to stop in and uh—” he looks down at his empty hands. He managed to forget Keith’s food in the observation deck. He slaps a hand to his forehead. “Did you eat yet?” he asks, annoyed with himself.

Keith moves another barrier into its proper alignment so it can disappear back into the floor. “I had some food goo when I got up.” Lance deflates a bit at that.

“Oh, well. Hunk wasn’t sure if you had anything so I brought you some of what he made for breakfast,” he says, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he brought Keith food on the regular.

“Oh, uh, thanks? Maybe I’ll have some after I’m done here. I wanted to do some cool down stretches. Unless…you wanted to spar?” Keith asks hesitantly, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to suggest it anymore. Lance jumps at the chance.

“Yeah! Let me just stretch and—” his muscles immediately ache as he leans over to the side to stretch his oblique’s. He groans and shifts back jerkily, “Oh wait nope. Nope I forgot.”

Keith’s eyes quickly scan over him. “What’s wrong?”

“Still sore from the battle yesterday, I don’t think an ass kicking is going to help,” Lance complains. He probably should continue stretching to work out his tense muscles. He drops down to the floor to do toe stretches. 

“How are you sore? Didn’t you guys stay in your lions the entire time?”

Lance snorts. “That was the plan. But we had to leave Voltron after the force fields went up and the gravity on the planet went crazy. When we tried to shut everything down at the center of the planet, well...the whole team got electrocuted and let me tell you! Not fun,” Lance says as he works through stretching his hamstrings. He can only just touch his toes, where he usually can wrap his hand around his foot.

Keith drops down beside him, “Electrocuted? All of you?” he asks, worry flooding his tone. Lance shrugs as he goes into a butterfly stretch.

“Allura was trying to disconnect Haggar from using this glowy orb in the center of this weird chamber and it backfired. The whole team had to drag her back to break her connection to the thing.”

Keith nods, eyes skimming over Lance as he twists to stretch out his lower back.

“And your hand?”

Lance stops mid-stretch. “Huh?”

Keith gestures towards Lance’s middle finger. “How’d you cut your knuckle?”

Lance blinks. He nearly forgot about the scrape on his finger. It was a good one; the gouge didn’t stop bleeding for a bit even after he got a bandage on it. It still looks a bit nasty on his hand, red and inflamed. He thinks for a split second.

“I punched a Galra sentry in the face,” he lies, keeping his face as straight as he can.

Keith laughs in surprise, “Really?”

“No, I accidentally caught it on something in the kitchen. Super clumsy, I might even need stitches for it, who knows?” Lance sighs dramatically. Keith rolls his eyes. 

“Let me see,” he says, and grabs for Lance’s hand. It’s almost cute, except for the fact that Keith is gripping hard enough to bruise his wrist. Keith scrutinizes the finger, eyebrows pulling together like magnets. Lance’s middle knuckle is still inflamed, his body trying to scab over the scratch. He’s had enough experience from fighting in this intergalactic space war to know that it’ll probably leave a tiny scar.

“So, do you think I’ll make it?” he asks, voice teasing.

Keith frowns. “You might lose the finger.”

Lance whips his hand back and stares frantically at the cut. “What?? How?”

Keith stares at him for a second, before bursting out laughing. Lance’s heart does a weird little flip in his chest at the sound. “You, you actually thought that—?”

Maybe once he might have gotten mad at Keith for that. He would have thought Keith was purposely taunting him with the idea of losing a finger on his firing hand. But, he knows Keith was just joking, he probably doesn’t even realize how serious a fear it is for Lance. And getting to see Keith actually laugh for once, that’s definitely worth it. He does push him over a bit with his good hand, though. Lance can’t let Keith one up him all the time.

“Yeah yeah, you got me. Don’t scare me like that; though. What would I do if I couldn’t flip people the double bird?” Lance asks as he demonstrates.

The loudspeaker above their heads suddenly crackles into use. Lance jumps and hides his hands under his legs. Allura can’t yell at him for flipping Keith off! She doesn’t even know what it means! Shiro though—

“My fellow Paladins,” Allura’s voice fills the chamber. Lance can’t help but catch the smile he can hear in her tone. She always sounds so happy when she calls herself a Paladin of Voltron. “Coran and I will be waking Prince Lotor in twenty dobashes. Please meet us in the dining hall and remember to bring your armor.”

“Guess that’s all the break we’re going to get,” Lance says. Keith merely shrugs.

Lance watches as Keith unfolds his legs from underneath himself and stands. He arches his back to stretch it out before looking down at Lance, holding out his hand. 

“Come on, let’s get going,” he says. Lance smiles and takes it, pulling himself up. So much for getting the day off, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went and changed everything to present tense because this is how I live my life, on the literary edge. Also, rating has gone up because daydreaming in the middle of job training leads you down some interesting new plot ideas.


	3. Allura | Pidge

Allura may have been foolish in asking for Keith to stay. She worried that she would let her compassion cloud her proceedings with Prince Lotor. She needn’t have. Her fists clench against her sides as she stands before his cyro-pod. She nearly had forgotten how deep seated her hatred of the Galra could be. There’s no hint of Zarkon in his son’s features, but she draws parallels anyway. The drawn brows, the angry tilt to his mouth even as he slept. She can feel her pulse pounding under her skin.

Coran reaches over and touches her shoulder. She does not falter in her gaze.

“As much as it pains you, Princess, we must be diplomatic. Prince Lotor has turned from the Galra Empire and may be willing to share its secrets. And remember the old saying; the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

She sighs, letting her shoulders relax minutely. Coran takes it as a signal to begin the restorative process. His fingers fly across the keys. 

“Thank you Coran. But, I don’t want him as a friend to our cause. I barely would trust him as an ally. I know that he has something to gain from all of this, but I cannot fathom what it would be.”

Coran hums under his breath. “I don’t particularly want to be friends with him either! But we need to take this advantage while we can. You have your stunner on you, correct?” 

Allura looks down at the device clipped to her Paladin armor. Even with the above average strength that she and Coran possess as Alteans, they weren’t sure if that would be enough to subdue Lotor if he fought back. His own Altean heritage could provide him an edge, or the fact that he was the son of the most powerful Galra in the past 10,000 years. Hopefully electric shock would be able to overpower him.

Coran’s finger hover above the final button. It was time. Allura nods to him. 

The pod’s seal releases, hissing out a concentrated steam as the glass rises back up. Lotor stands immobile for a heart pounding few seconds. Suddenly he jerks, coming back to himself with a snarl.

Allura and Coran immediately have their stunners pointed at his chest, fingers on the triggers. Lotor freezes, his eyes cloudy. He blinks a few times before relaxing back into the pod. 

“My apologies. I did not know where I was for a moment,” he says, voice a bit faint.

Allura’s stomach rolls in a combination of disgust and nostalgia. Lotor’s voice...it has the same cadence as those raised in the Altean capital. She hasn’t heard it since her father’s AI was destroyed. Coran’s voice, while comforting in its familiarity, still betrays his more humble upbringing in its accent. Coran settles back and clips his stunner to his hip, but Allura can see his hand did not stray far from it. She relaxes her stance as well. Diplomacy. She must remember diplomacy.

“Prince Lotor, allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Princess Allura of Altea, and this is my senior advisor, Coran. I apologize if you thought that your lodgings were inhospitable, but we could not allow a previous enemy combatant have free range of the castle. I hope that we will be able to earn each other’s trust moving forward from this point.” She hopes it is abundantly clear that Lotor is going to have to work hard for that trust.

Lotor shifts so his hands are held behind his back, submissive. It’s a purposeful gesture. “I understand. If I were in your position I likely would have done the same thing. I hope that we will be able to negotiate and work together from this point forward.”

Allura gestures down the hall. “We shall lead you to the discussions.”

“Wait,” Coran says, leaning closer into Lotor’s personal space to inspect him. “Keith neglected to confiscate your weapons, didn’t he? Sorry, but we can’t be having you walking around with your own laser gun. Drop anything that could conceivably be considered a weapon for me.”

Lotor doesn’t even flinch at the request, though Allura wonders if he protests in his thoughts. The prince hands Coran his sword, a blaster from a shoulder holster, two shrike-throwing knives in his boots, a mini two-shot blaster up one of his sleeves, a wire for asphyxiation in his gauntlet, and three stun grenades concealed in various pockets. 

Coran quirks an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

Lotor pats himself down again and pauses at his side. He pulls an electrified baton from his cloak and hands it over. 

“That’s all of it.”

Coran nods over the pile of weapons cradled in his arms. Allura sighs, he looks ridiculous.

“Lead the way, Coran,” she says and falls into step behind Lotor.

***

The teams sit stiffly in their chairs, all eyeing their guest with poorly disguised animosity. Allura can’t blame them, she’s certain her own posture isn’t the most welcoming as she stands at the head of the table. Still, this was a huge step in the war effort. They have Zarkon’s son in their possession, the former crown prince to the Empire. This might be a breakthrough that could affect the entire outcome of their rebellion. She can see the rest of the team might not see the situation in the same light. Hunk looks about two seconds from passing out. He glances over to Keith anxiously, who has his arms crossed and slouched into his chair. He looks petulant about the arrangement, but he should have realized that they would extend Lotor _some_ common curtesy. Pidge sits back, observing Lotor closely; her nerves don’t show in her expression. Both Shiro and Lance seem totally at ease, but Allura doubts that the impression she gets from their body language matches their thoughts.  Lotor sits comfortably in his seat, surrounded by Voltron’s Paladins, projecting confidence.

“Prince Lotor, I would like to thank you for aiding us in our last battle. Without your help, an astronomical amount of lives might have been lost,” Allura begins, her voice as even as she can make it. Near the end of the table, Keith turns to look at her accusingly. Shiro sits up straighter in his chair.

“Voltron wouldn’t have been able to make it in time. I don’t know what we would have done if you weren’t there,” Shiro adds, though the words seem to be directed more towards Keith than Lotor. Keith reluctantly sits back in his chair, and Lance leans over to whisper something in his ear.

Lotor relaxes the slightest degree. “You’re very welcome.”

“However,” Allura says, standing straighter in her Paladin armor, “That doesn’t mean that all is forgiven. You have attacked Voltron and its allies on multiple occasions. You have only reached out to us after word spread that you were banished from the Galra Empire. What reasons do you have to contact us now?” She asks, voice echoing down the table. She has not forgotten the terrifying time she spent in Blue, cowering in the dark as she was hunted down, in a Lion she could barely pilot. She will not easily forgive. Lotor nods and leans forward towards her, fingers lacing together on the table. 

“As I said before, I understand your hesitation in listening to me. I did not give you many opportunities to trust me before this,” he pauses, growing more serious, “However, I am not my father. In the past I attempted to lead in a different way than the Galra Empire has for millennia. I did not want to drain societies until every last resource was gone. I wanted to bring people into the Empire to connect them, to share the wealth of knowledge that the Galra have gained and put it to use.”

Keith snorts from down the table. Lance not so discreetly elbows him as Pidge glares at the pair. Hunk nervously looks between the three of them, and then to Lotor. 

“You still brought unwilling people under Galra control. How does that make you different from Zarkon?” Allura asks, shooting the question at him. His eyes grow wide, and he sits back into his chair. 

“It’s true...while I believed I was improving on the Empire’s methods, I was still following in its footsteps. I was still striving to bring the entire universe under Galra influence; that was always the end goal. But, having all of that power turned against me, I realized...no good can come from only one group being in control. There’s no way to meet the needs and desires of so many races and people when only one can make the decisions.”

There’s a pause, as Allura stills herself on the table with her hand. She blinks back a memory of other Altean’s, alive and thriving in an alternate reality. Their goal of uniting everyone under one banner sounded so noble, so perfect. There was only one side, and therefor there could be no fighting. She had thought it lovely, at first. But it hurt even more to realize the cost at which the peace was obtained. It’s disturbing to find her thought process so closely mirrored to Lotor’s own.

“Is that why you were like, excommunicated? Because you were doing things differently than the rest of the Galra were?” Hunk chimes in. Lotor sighs and shakes his head. 

“I knew better than to voice my opinions to my father. Admitting such things would have meant my death. My mother grew suspicious of my activities while I was acting as regent and found that I was not fulfilling my duties like they expected of me.”

Keith finally snaps. “So what? You have the whole universe to hide away in; you could have gone to some abandoned planet in the middle of fucking nowhere. The only reason you would have come to us is because it benefits you somehow!”

Allura’s fingers tighten against the table to keep herself from agreeing too quickly. “Keith brings up an excellent point. Why come to us to begin with?”

“Because I want to help you,” Lotor says, voice dipping low and sincere. Pidge snorts loudly. 

“Yeah ok, that sounds legit,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Lotor’s eyes tighten. 

“I meant what I said. I have more inside knowledge of the Empire than you could ever hope to obtain. I can provide you schematics, plans, codes, everything you need to dismantle the Empire from the inside out. Also, if you remove my father from power, I will no longer have to hide or follow the path that he once set before me. I will be free,” his face is flush with how passionately he is speaking. He continues, voice dipping quieter. “And, you can also consider it as repayment for saving me from my father’s fleet when they attacked my base. I would not have gotten out of there if not for Voltron.”

“I still don’t believe any of this, there’s still a chance that Zarkon isn’t really turning against Lotor, and is just pretending so he can get closer to Voltron!” Keith says. Lotor whips around to face him. 

“You saw the firepower they were using against me. My father summoned a quarter of his fleet to terminate me and my forces and—” he pauses, face twisting into something ugly and angry. There’s pain there, mixed with regret. “And he partially succeeded. One of my generals was killed in the attack. She was with me since the beginning, supporting me and my vision. But now she’s gone.”

There’s silence around the table. Allura’s legs feel weak. Against her better judgement, she feels a seed of compassion plant itself in her heart. She knows loss. She knows it in the echoing loneliness of the Castle of Lions, knows it in the coordinates that now lead to empty space instead of her home. She is moved constantly forward by loss. Lotor takes a deep, solid breath, letting his fists unclench on top of the table. She watches as he places the pain aside.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she says quietly. Perhaps too sincerely, since Lotor looks surprised at her words. He nods.

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I still don’t trust this. We need something more concrete, something that will prove that he’s actually trying to help,” Pidge says. Keith grunts in agreement. 

Lotor sighs, “I would think that giving up my person and my vessel would be enough physical proof to start off with.”

“Well, isn’t that the oldest trick in the book? We’ve pulled the same thing on the Galra a couple of times. ‘Oh please, don’t fight us anymore, we give up! Take our Lions and spare our lives!’ You know, that sort of thing,” Lance says, voice pitched higher as he acts.

Shiro shifts in his seat next to Allura. “That’s true, we’ve used that tactic several times to make us appear weak to the Galra,” he looks Lotor over with a steady gaze, “We’ll need to scan your ship for anything harmful or suspicious.”

Lotor opens his mouth, seemingly to argue, but his words get caught in his throat. His eyes flash as they focus in on Shiro, who sits upright at the attention. Allura isn’t sure, but she imagines she sees his lips quirk up in the tiniest of smiles. But no, she must be wrong. He frowns, a concerned look crossing over his features.

“I…I may have more concrete evidence to prove to you how sincere I am when I say that I wish to help. However, it might…upset you,” he says leaning away from the table. He seems incredibly hesitant to share, which just makes Allura more curious what could provoke such a reaction.

“If you believe it will help your credibility please tell us,” Allura prompts. Lotor’s eyes slide back to Shiro. He takes a deep, slow breath.

“I heard rumors of a genetic manipulation program that a specialized set of scientists were working on for the Empire. I was never directly involved but I happened to learn that they had been successful in cloning specimens so perfectly that they could even transfer memories and personality.”

“That’s horrifying,” Hunk mutters under his breath.

Allura silently disagrees. The idea that you could take someone’s preserved memories and place them into a new body, it- it was too dangerous for her to even to think about. But something aches deep down in her chest, her fingers curl as she imagines her father before her. Hugging him one last time before she shattered the vessel his memories were contained in. If only she hadn’t destroyed it, if only it hadn’t been corrupted, then maybe—

No. No, she mustn’t let herself think such selfish things. She focuses back into the here and now, digging her nails into the palm of her hand to ground herself.

“What does any of that have to do with us?” Keith asks; his arms still crossed over his chest.

Lotor turns from Shiro to face her, his sharp yellow eyes the only thing in the room.

“It matters because the Black Paladin sitting next to you isn’t who he thinks he is.” There’s a pause, and time seems to slow down. Allura’s brain shoots in several different directions, trying to piece together what Lotor is implying. He continues, “Didn’t you lose a pilot a few months back? And then, miraculously, he escaped from his captors and made it back to you? Tell me, why _didn’t_ the Black Paladin immediately take back his position in his Lion?”

Allura feels lightheaded. He couldn’t mean…There was no way for Shiro to be—

She looks down at the man to the left of her, remembers how he came back different, more reserved. She barely recognized him with his hair grown out and the beginnings of stubble on his chin. But he had been through so much; it was expected that he wouldn’t come back exactly the same. Shiro looks…frozen, staring at something in his memories only he can see. She wishes to reach out to him, but she finds she is frozen as well.

“No, no that’s not right. That’s Shiro. That’s definitely Shiro,” Hunk protests, his voice shaking as he breaks the silence.

“I know it may be hard to hear but I would not lie about this. I thought you would want to know about this potential threat to your team and the resistance. The man you call Shiro is a clone. I hope that this can help prove that you can trust me.”

“We’re not trusting you, whether or not what you’re saying is true,” Keith says, “We need to know if it’s worth the risk to listen to you speak instead of just letting you rot in a containment pod.” His body is thrumming with energy he looks ready to tear Lotor to pieces. 

“Keith, stop,” Allura says, voice firm. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Lotor relax from a defensive position. They all need to regroup and gather their thoughts. She gently grasps Shiro’s shoulder. He exhales and focuses once more on the group, still looking a bit shaken. “We...we’re done here, for today. Hunk, if you could please bring Lotor to one of the holding cells.”

Lotor stands and makes his way towards the hall, closely followed by Hunk. He stops at the doorway and turns back to face Allura, gaze cold.  “Make sure you check his eyes,” he adds, before disappearing from her sight.

***

“I still can’t believe we have to even test this,” Pidge grumbles, laying out supplies on the desk. 

“We have to cover everything, Pidge. I just don’t know why Lotor would choose this as a way to prove himself if we can easily test if he’s lying,” Shiro says, leaning awkwardly against the medical cot they have set up. Coran pops out of the supply closet he was digging around in and tosses a medical gown towards Shiro, who blanches.

“We have to take a few samples from you and it’s easier to do if you’re unconscious and not wearing so many clothes!” Coran says, flapping his hands impatiently like he expects Shiro to strip right in front of Pidge and Matt. Pidge gags and turns around towards her monitors.

“Not in front of my baby sister!” Matt gasps, slipping his hands over her eyes even though she’s facing away. She laughs as she grips his wrists.

“I’m not even looking!”

Shiro sounds pained. “Please Coran, I can change in the bathroom or—”

“Nonsense! It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Come on, times a-wasting,” Coran says. 

Matt leans down and whispers in her ear “Does Coran see him naked a lot??”

“I have no idea! I hope not,” She hisses back. But she still can’t fight back a few more giggles. Nervous energy bubbles under her skin, her laughter coming out a bit hysterical. She knows that this is all ridiculous, that there’s no chance that what Lotor said is true. But a tiny ‘what if?’ still plagues the back of her mind.

“I’m decent,” Shiro calls out. She turns and sees that her laughter had been a bit contagious, which was probably Matt’s aim in the first place. Shiro looks a bit more relaxed, sitting on the edge of the table in the long medical gown down past his knees. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Alright. We’re gonna knock you out so we can take bone marrow samples, no one wants to be awake for that. And we _apparently_ need to look at your eyes too, so it’ll probably be nice to be unconscious when we’re blasting them with bright lights,” Pidge says, listing things off with her fingers.

Matt bumps Shiro with his shoulder. “You sure Lotor didn’t just say he ‘got lost in your eyes’? Did he get a dreamy far off look? All I’m saying is he might have been hitting on you and you missed it.”

Shiro barks out a bit of surprised laughter. “With that image I’m definitely ready to be knocked unconscious. Pidge?”

“One second,” she says and grabs the Altean knock out gas that apparently just hangs out in the medical bay. She pushes it over on its floating tray to Shiro’s side and hands him the mask connected to the tank.

“Thanks,” he says, and settles back on the bed. 

“Once this is done and we’ve proven you’re our Shiro I’m gonna kick Lotor in the shin for wasting so much of my time,” she mutters. Shiro smiles. Matt places a hand at his shoulder as Pidge slowly opens up the valves to the gas.

“Sweet dreams, sir,” Matt whispers as Shiro’s eyes flutter shut. 

***

Pidge sits in front of her screens, hand pressed firmly over her mouth. She’s not sure what will escape from her if she lets go. 

Matt is just as quiet next to her on his stool. He keeps running through the data points, over the three different samples they’d taken at each location. Blood, hair, skin, bone tissue. They kept checking, because it had to be wrong. Right? They should check again, to be sure, to be...Because nothing...none of his cells are older than a few months. She knows that skin cells change over in a matter of weeks, and blood recycles in a matter of months but… Bone’s cellular structure changes over in years. They _should_ be able to find cells in his body older than six months.

Maybe he was experimented on? Some fast regenerative product that could turn over his cells—

She feels a scream clawing up her throat. 

Because all that didn’t _matter_ after they checked his eyes: they were as inorganic as his right arm, two synchronized recording devices documenting both audio and visual. Every moment since they picked the man up from that busted Galra cruiser he’d been recording them.

“They’re not outfitted to broadcast anything,” Matt says softly. She doesn’t reply. “Maybe transmissions would have been detectable by the castle’s defenses. Or maybe the residual radiation could have messed with his brain.”

“So he has to deliver it all to the Galra himself,” she says, the words like acid on her tongue. 

“Or the Galra would kidnap him again and download it,” Matt says.

“You don’t think he’d just give it to them willingly? Why wouldn’t he?” Pidge asks, voice growing louder. She can’t organize her thoughts, she knows that she’s not seeing the big picture, but she can’t get past the betrayal. 

“I don’t think he knows...I don’t think he ever knew what he was. He thinks he’s Shiro.”

“He’s not,” she says decisively. Matt scrubs his hands across his face. Pidge gives up on the screens and curls up into herself on the seat. She feels the bigger issue like a lump in her throat. “Where’s the real Shiro, then?” She asks and her voice catches. She feels Matt’s arms tighten around her shoulders as she buries her face into her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! New perspectives! And the plot finally kicks into gear! Have fun with all of my headcanons.


	4. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Shiro's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Everyone sits in stunned silence around the dining table.

Keith can’t hear over the ringing in his ears. The display that Pidge and Matt are explaining blurs in front of his eyes, he can’t take in an ounce of information. He props his head against his fists, leaning his elbows against the table for support. He’s floating above the conversation, not quite tethered to anything.

The others’ words slowly register in his mind. He doesn’t pick his head up.

“So he’s...” Allura peters off, voice faint.

“A clone. He’s been recording our movements for months. The recording is tied intrinsically to his sight; the only way for me to stop it is for me to disrupt them all together—”

“Wouldn’t that blind him?” Hunk interrupts.

Phantom pain lances through Keith’s core as he flinches, eyes shutting tighter. This is just too much, too much all at once to handle. They needed to what, remove Shiro’s eyes? Or just stop them from working? He’d never be able to pilot again, even with his past connection the Black Lion. Keith’s hands are clasped so tightly together that the shake. He imagines being forced to lose his sight, not being able to fight, or pilot. He doesn’t know what he would do.

“Did you find anything else? Anything that could affect his brain? Any…corruptions?” Allura asks hesitantly.

Matt answers, voice slow and uncertain. “No, it was just the cybernetic eyes. I don’t think there’s a way for the Galra to...override his brain or something like that. But we can’t be one hundred percent sure. I think I’m going to run a few tests on his prosthetic arm too, unless you guys did that a few months ago.”

“We didn’t, that’s a good idea,” Pidge replies under her breath.

Keith digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hears Lance shift in the chair next to him.

“If the Shiro we have here is a clone...then where’s our Shiro?” Lance asks, his voice sounding small in the large room.

And that’s right. It’s not just…this other Shiro that Keith has to worry over. The Shiro he knew at the Garrison, the one who led the team when they first piloted Voltron, his friend, is _still_ missing. After months and months. He’s abandoned Shiro without even realizing it. How were they ever going to find him? And if they did, how were they ever going to make it up to him?

Pidge sighs, frustrated.

“We don’t know where he is. I stopped the subroutines that were searching for mentions of Shiro once we fou- when we thought we found him. I’ve missed months of data.”

“There weren’t any clues on Shiro’s clone that could help you trace him back to where he escaped from?” Hunk asks.

“There might be some intel in the cybernetic eyes, but I’ll have to run more detailed diagnostics,” Pidge says. “I’ve still got him under anesthetic until we can figure out what to do with him; we might have to keep him iced in a containment pod to—”

And that’s the last straw.

“Stop talking like he’s a thing!” Keith finally snaps, hands wrenching away from his face. He twists towards Pidge, who doesn’t look too surprised at the outburst. “You can’t just keep him knocked out without explaining anything to him!”

Pidge leans towards him, crossing her arms over her chest, “Why do we need to explain it to him, Keith? We need to make sure he can’t record us—”

“So you’re going to blind him? Without even letting him know what’s going on?” Keith yells, standing up to tower over Pidge. She doesn’t budge. Keith wants to swipe the communicator she’s using off the table into the wall; he wants to destroy whatever evidence they found that told them that Shiro is a clone. He doesn’t want _this_.

“Keith, as far as we know his eyes are just the tip of the iceberg. What if he’s been brainwashed to attack if his mission is compromised? What if he’s actually been pretending this whole time? What if, I don’t know, they’ve implanted a microscopic bomb in his body that I can’t detect? He’s a risk,” Pidge argues, still too calm. She almost sounds impartial, like what she’s saying is the only thing that makes sense.

“He’s SHIRO!” Keith yells back.

“He’s—”

Keith cuts her off. “A clone, yeah, I got that. But he’s got Shiro’s body and Shiro’s memories. We’re going to treat him like a human being.”

Pidge’s fists clench on the table, a sign that her composure is finally cracking. Her glasses flash in the light as she looks up at Keith, glaring at him. The rest of the group are tense as well, ready to step in if they need to. Matt definitely looks ready to get between Keith and Pidge.

“You-you don’t get to make the final decision on this! We’re gonna figure out what’s safest—”

“No. Actually, I do get the final say on this,” Keith interrupts. The whole team looks up at him, confused. He realizes that there’s only one way to make sure that Shiro is treated properly, and he hates it. He absolutely does not want to pull this card. His hands shake at his sides; he clenches his fists tighter to hide it. “If Shiro can no longer pilot, then I have to take his place. And as the Paladin of the Black Lion and leader of the team, we’re not doing anything to Shiro until we talk to him.”

The room falls silent once more.

Pidge’s glare just intensifies, eyes flaring with anger. She wants to argue, he can tell, but she knows he’s right. He’s the only other person who’s been able to pilot the Black Lion, they need him. Just the thought of having to pilot again, to have to lead the team again it- Anxiety clenches tightly around his rib cage, making it hard to breathe. He doesn’t _want_ this.

After a heated moment, Pidge falls back into her seat. “Fine. Fine, Keith. But, we’re still going to keep him in a secure environment until I can assess the danger.”

That was alright. That was better than locking Shiro up just because they didn’t understand what was going on. Better than not explaining anything to him and just leaving him in the dark about who he was. Keith nods. “Good. Let me know when you’re going to wake him up,” he says, voice clipped. He needs to get out of here, he can’t sort through every thought that’s pounding in his mind. There’s a shout as he pushes back from the table and heads towards the hall, but he’s past caring now.

His feet automatically lead him towards the direction of the observation deck. He’s worried he won’t make it there in time, that his thoughts will drown out everything in his mind. There’s an itch at the back of his skull that yells ‘run, run, run’ but he can’t, because Shiro needs him here, and the team needs him here even if they don’t necessarily _want_ him here.

Stop, stop, think, breathe. The observation deck. Shiro…Shiro found the tiny observation deck first, and told Keith it was a great place to take your mind off of things. It’s quiet and dark, hidden away from the rest of the castle. No one there to disturb him.

“Keith, wait—!”

Of course.

“Not right _now_ , Lance,” Keith says, trying and failing to keep the aggravation out of his voice. He doesn’t bother turning around. Lance picks up his pace until he’s beside Keith, doing his best to match his strides.

“Hey, I just want to—” he starts, but Keith cuts him off.

“I really don’t want to talk. I’ll apologize to Pidge later if you want, but I can’t go back there now.”

Lance still doesn’t back down. “We don’t have to talk. Or, I don’t have to talk. If you just want to yell at the walls or beat up some gladiators that’s fine. I’ll just sit there.”

“I can handle this by myself,” Keith says, annoyed that Lance isn’t getting the message, and too stressed to figure out what Lance really wants. Keith doesn’t want anyone around him, he feels volatile, like he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to do this by yourself,” Lance says, picking up the pace so he can stand in front of Keith, preventing him from continuing down the hall. Lance pins him in place with his eyes. He seems less mad and more…concerned. He sighs. “You keep…You keep isolating yourself and never letting anyone help. I don’t get it, and maybe I won’t ever get it but like…At least you can have someone to listen to you.”

Keith reels, looking down towards the floor to avoid looking at Lance. Wasn’t he just thinking that no one wants him here? Allura, or maybe Hunk probably sent him to calm Keith down, to get him to stop ruining everything, to stop fighting against the team instead of with it. He doesn’t want to rely on Lance’s help, or the team’s, because what will he do when he doesn’t have it anymore? He doesn’t want to learn to rely on anyone’s sympathy, because he’s not sure how long it will be until he loses it.

Lance takes a deep breath.

“Please.”

They stand in silence for a moment, as Keith takes a few deep breaths himself to calm the anger in his chest. He doesn’t have the words to fight with Lance right now. If he wants to weather through whatever breakdown Keith is going to have, then so be it. Keith jerks his head in what could be interpreted as a nod, and continues to walk. He considers heading towards the training room instead, but he’s so close to the observation deck that it doesn’t make sense to walk further. The footsteps behind him let him know Lance is following.

The control pad receives a rather vicious punch from Keith’s fist, probably too rough. The darkness of the room stands in sharp contrast to the hall outside. Keith can see Lance’s silhouette for a brief second reflected in the glass in front of him before the door closes. It suddenly feels eerily quiet, the hum of the lights in the hallway cut off. Lance takes a quick look around the room.

“Hey, this place is pretty cool!” he says as he peers out through the glass.

“Is it?” Keith asks, his voice flat. He finds himself pacing the length of the window, not seeing anything past the pane of glass.

Lance just shrugs before turning to settle down on the floor near the door, long legs stretching out in front of him. He leans his head back against the wall. “I’ll just chill here, don’t mind me,” he says.

The thing is, Keith _certainly_ minded. He jerks his head around to face Lance.  “What do you _want_ from me?” Lance shrugs again, eyes closed.

God, it is _infuriating_. Keith just wants to chuck things across the room, but the observation deck is sadly barren. His pulse races, head pounding as he tries to focus on too many things at once, the peace of the room not helping in the slightest. How did things go so wrong so quick? Shiro is missing, and ...Shiro? The Shiro with them needs to be told he isn’t who he thinks he is. But they have to go searching for missing Shiro, and who is going to do that? And-

“Hmmm, how about we talk this out?” Lance cuts into his train of thought. Keith doesn’t stop his pacing.

“What is there to talk about? The fact that the Shiro on the ship is going to have to deal with the fact that he was created in a lab? That the Shiro we knew is still lost out there and we have no _fucking_ idea how to find him? Or, how about the fact that we need to permanently _blind_ Shiro, on top of telling him he’s a clone? And now I have to take control of the Black Lion again and figure all of this shit out!”

Keith’s voice aches from yelling, panic clawing its way up his throat. Lance curls one leg up and leans his chin against it. He looks disgustingly calm.

“Okay, first off, it’s not just you who has to figure out everything. Because second off, you have me as your amazing right hand man,” he gives Keith a bravado filled smile.

“I don’t _want_ you as my right hand man!” Keith snarls. Lance jerks back.

“You don’t?” he asks, voice curling in on itself. Keith’s breath catches on his crestfallen expression, pulling him up short.

“No, no I-I don’t want anyone as my right hand man I—”

Lance’s face closes off, jaw set.

“No one, huh? No one is good enough to pilot with you anymore? You’d rather try to do everything all on your own instead of just asking for—”

“No! No that’s not—!” Keith growls in frustration. Why can he never say things how he wants to! He digs his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to _be_ the Black Paladin! I can’t do it again! I didn’t know how to lead, or how to plan, or how to keep everyone safe. With the Blades I’m only responsible for _me_. And if I mess that up, who cares? I’m the one who fucked up! But I don’t want anything to happen to the team, I can’t handle that responsibility again!” His voice cracks as he yells.

“Wait, Keith—” Lance whispers, eyes wide.

“I know, I know I have to do it, okay? So much depends on Voltron but,” he looks down at Lance, “It felt like I was- I don’t even know. Trying to keep my head above water. But I kept making mistakes, and Shiro kept on directing missions, and just wanted him to be able to take my place. And being with the Blades, it-it was better. My head was clearer. It was easier to breathe there—” he chokes out. But that’s not quite true, either. He felt overloaded when he was the leader of Voltron, too much pressing down on his shoulders for him to handle. Being with the Blades had felt like he was floating, untethered from anything, no longer belonging in his own skin. He tries to explain it to Lance, but his throat closes up around the words. He wants to punch something. He wants everything with Shiro to be fixed. He wants to feel grounded.

He can’t handle this anymore.

“Leave,” he tells Lance, forcing the words out. Silence echoes in the room as neither of them move. “Now,” Keith adds more firmly.

Lance slowly shifts to get up from the floor, never taking his eyes off Keith. He’ll leave and then Keith can collapse, alone. He just needs time to himself to fall apart, so that he can pull himself back up and face the expectations of the team.

But Lance steps towards him instead of the door, slow and deliberate. He catches Keith’s eye. “Please don’t stab me,” he quietly pleads as he crowds into Keith’s space. Keith stiffens, ready to fight back.

But then Lance’s arms wrap around him, leaning him into a warm chest. Keith stands frozen and bewildered, pulse pounding in his ears.

“What—”

“I’m sorry. None of us- I didn’t know that’s how you felt,” Lance whispers, and Keith can feel it against his cheek, shivering in response. Lance’s grip tightens, and something in Keith cracks.

He can’t help the tears clouding his vision, even as he tries to hold them in. It’s _mortifying._ Lance doesn’t need to see this, doesn’t need to care about this, what will he even think of Keith after-

A hand comes up behind his head, gently pushing it forward into the curve of Lance’s shoulder. Keith’s face presses into the fabric of his hoodie.

“It’s gonna be alright.”

Keith’s breath catches and that’s all it takes. He exhales with a sob. He tries to stay as quiet as he can, shoulders hitching as he cries. He can’t do this, how is he going to save not one, but two Shiro’s? Why can’t things just be easy for once? Straightforward? Why did he have to be the one the Black Lion chose, when he never wanted it to begin with? He just wants everything to stop so he can get his feet under him, is that too much to ask?

Heat seeps into Keith’s lower back as Lance rubs his palm in slow circles. Keith realizes that the hand on his head has worked its way into his hair, massaging gently. He eases further into Lance’s hold, breath beginning to calm. The pulse in his ears quiets, and Keith just…settles. His head burrows further into Lance’s shoulder. He feels exhausted. The anger that had spun around in his chest slowly drains out of him. The soft pull of Lance’s fingers relaxes him further, nerves sparking at the touch. This. This is what he’s wanted: this closeness, this brief second of peace. Having Lance just stay with him for a bit, relying on each other. It’s nice. Too nice. They’ve been like this too long, he should move, or Lance will wonder why he’s dragging this out. Keith unclenches his hands from Lance’s jacket.

Lance pulls his hands away slowly as Keith steps back, hands dragging a bit at Keith’s shirt. Keith wipes his face off, not ready to look Lance in the eye. “Thanks,” he whispers. His voice scratches his throat.

“No problem man, anytime,” Lance says. Keith sighs, frustrated. This shouldn’t have happened a first time. Lance’s hand finds his shoulder once more, and Keith finally looks up at him. He looks intent, focused on Keith like he’s the only thing in the room. “I mean it. If you ever need to talk about stuff, or...cry about stuff, no judgment here. You don’t have to do this alone, you don’t have to—” he pauses, like he’s suddenly had an idea.

Keith waits for him to continue, but Lance seems stuck in his own thoughts. His eyebrows pinch together like he was working on a huge problem in his head, his hand leaves Keith’s shoulder to stroke his own chin. Keith clears his throat to get rid of its irritation and to recapture Lance’s attention. “Thanks I’ll...keep it in mind,” Keith says. There should be more in there, something nicer, but he doesn’t know how to voice it. Lance smiles like he heard it anyway.

“Good, good. Now, we should probably figure out when to wake up Shiro, and who’s going to talk to him.”

“Me. I’ll talk to him,” Keith answers immediately. Lance nods, like he was expecting the response.

“Alright, so you can talk to Pidge and see when she can wake him up. And for the Shiro that’s missing…didn’t Matt, Pidge and Hunk figure out a new way to track Galra communications and translate them? Like, with that supped up tracking program they could maybe search for certain terms or words and we might get a few leads. Or Pidge could plug that into the program she had awhile back to look for Shiro.”

Keith nods, his feet feel steadier underneath him with a plan to follow. “I’ll mention it to Pidge when I ask about how Shiro is doing.”

Lance sighs, “Man, we’re really going to need a way to talk about the different Shiro’s. Shiro one and Shiro two? Alpha and Beta? Earth Shiro and Space Shiro?” His eyes light up on the last one. Keith feels a smile tug at his lips.

“Those are all terrible,” he says. Lance shrugs with his whole body.

“At least I’m trying! I guess it’s not the most important thing on the list of things that need to get done. Speaking of! I have something that I need to get started on,” he says and turns to head out the door.

“What is it?” Keith asks, confused. Lance just turns to shoot some finger guns at him as he heads backwards into the hall.

“Super-secret mission! Don’t want to tell you just in case it doesn’t work! And if it does work, well, I want it to be a surprise. If you want to talk after seeing Shiro, just let me know!” The doors shut behind him. Keith stands there, emotions rolling in seven different directions at once.

“Yeah, I will,” he mutters under his breath.

***

Only an hour or so later Keith finds himself outside the door to Shiro’s room. His heart is beating too fast in his chest, and his stomach is two seconds from turning itself inside out. Talking things out with Lance had helped, but now he actually has to sit down and explain things to Shiro and…His stomach seizes with nerves. Pidge lowers her comm next to him, finished with her debriefing on Shiro’s condition. Keith feels guilty about earlier, him yelling at her, but doesn’t know how to apologize. She doesn’t look ready to forgive him just yet, either. Hunk waits at the side of the door, looking just as nervous as Keith feels.

“Good luck. Let us know if you need any help in there, ok?” Hunk tells him as he gives a reassuring smile.

Pidge just nods towards him. Her focus is on her comm, where a live feed of Shiro’s room is playing. She’s keeping an eye out in case ‘things go bad’.

The door slides open and Keith steps into a dark room. He dodges around a crate in the low light, full of the mission briefings that Shiro likes to have hard copies of. Faint snoring comes from the bed. Keith sits down on the lid on one of the crates to wait. He’s drawn so tight that he can’t stop the bouncing of his foot on the floor, jittering with nerves.

Too soon, Shiro starts to stir on the bed. Keith’s hands dig too tightly into his arms, pain distracting him from the rolling of his stomach.

“Hey Shiro,” he says softly to let the man know he’s not alone in the room. Shiro shifts, slow and uncoordinated. He looks over at Keith, blinking in confusion.

“Mornin’,” he slurs like he’s trying to get his tongue back under control. Keith grits his teeth. He’s going to have a talk with Pidge about how much sedative is appropriate. Shiro adjusts to roll and sit up. Keith jerks forward, a warning on the tip of his tongue. He’s not quick enough, Shrio goes to support himself with his right arm and instead collapses back into the bed. His prosthetic had been removed by Pidge and Matt as he slept. Shiro lies frozen on the bed, face hidden from Keith’s view.

“Shiro—”

“It’s true?” he asks, voice flat. Keith’s jaw works, but no sound can find its way past the lump in his throat. Shiro slowly, glacially shifts, adjusting his balance to sit up on the bed. He still doesn’t look towards Keith. “Is it?”

“Yeah, he was right,” Keith manages to whisper. Shiro finally looks over to him, illuminated only by the soft glow of the emergency lights in his room. He doesn’t say anything, eyes staring blankly ahead. Keith feels the need to fill the silence. “Your arm, uh- Pidge had to take your arm because she found some sort of chemicals stored inside it. They could have messed with your behavior if they got into your bloodstream, I think. She said something about lowering inhibitions and inducing rage,” he says, doing a poor job of quoting what Pidge told him before he entered the room. Shiro’s human hand jerks up to reach for the stump of his right arm. He stops before he can touch it.

“Oh,” is all Shiro says in reply.

Keith swallows around his dry throat, he still feels jittery with nerves. He doesn’t want to tell Shiro any of this. He doesn’t want for it to be true to begin with. “And, um. There’s one other thing.”

There’s a low sigh as Shiro slowly closes his eyes. He slumps in on himself, resting a fist against his forehead. “What is it,” he says, more a statement than question.

“Yo-your eyes,” Keith stumbles over the words. “They’re not...well they’re. They’re not organic. They look like regular eyes but they record everything you see.”

Shiro flinches. “So I’ve given up all of Voltron’s plans and secrets to the Galra?” he asks. His voice is still so calm. Keith sits up straighter on his seat.

“No! No you haven’t. You didn’t even know they were doing that. And Pidge said that nothing was transmitted from them, so they haven’t seen any of it.”

Shiro finally turns his eyes towards Keith and properly _looks_ at him. He looks…haunted. Keith remembers how he was when they rescued him from the Galra cruiser, malnourished and injured. He hadn’t left his room for a week, alone in the dark as he worked through his thoughts. Keith had hoped he’d never have to see Shiro look like that again.

“Why am I awake? Why don’t you have me sealed away in a pod somewhere?”

Misplaced anger flares in Keith’s chest. His argument with Pidge was about the same thing, he’s not going to hear the same from Shiro himself.

“We wanted to let you know what was happening, you deserve to know the truth about yourself.”

“I’m a liability, you have no idea what else could have been planted in my arm, or in my subconscious, or in my memo—” he chokes off. His fist balls up in his lap, clenching and releasing.

“You’re not a liability. You’re _you_. You have all of Shiro’s DNA, his memories, his thoughts. You’re—”

“A copy,” Shiro cuts across him. His breath has turned into something shallow and harsh. “I’m- she finally did it. She made me and she owns every inch of me now. Haggar, she—” he stands abruptly, looking frantically around the room. He’s hyperventilating. Keith stands as well, and Shiro reacts. His injured arm whips up in front of him in a defensive stance, but he’s thrown off balance by the missing momentum of his prosthetic. He staggers back until he hits the wall of his room. “Sorry, I-I don’t know what’s...” he trails off faintly. Keith can see he’s breaking out in sweat.

Keith stays as still as he can, trying not to startle Shiro again. Fear gnaws at his chest, not for himself, but for whatever is running through Shiro’s mind. “That’s not true. We don’t even know if Haggar has anything to do with this. But even if she did, you’re still—“

Shiro tilts away, leaning heavily against the wall. His hand comes up to cover his face. “No, I do know. She showed me. She showed me copies of myself and I thought they weren’t real but. But they were...I am.”

Keith is going to be sick, he has no idea how to help. He’s never seen Shiro this panicked before. Has he always felt like this?

“You don’t _belong_ to her. You belong to yourself. And yes, you’re a copy of Shiro, but that still makes you Shiro,” Keith says firmly. Shiro swallows thickly.

“I...I remember. I thought I was hallucinating, but I saw myself tied down to an operating table, surrounded by scientists. That was...he was the real Shiro.”

Keith’s heart picks up at the news; they might have a lead to find Shiro after all. But he looks again at the man before him, who seems to be two seconds from collapsing. He takes a step forward.

“You’re real too,” he says softly.

Shiro shakes his head, “No, I don’t think I am.” His legs give up on supporting him, and he slides himself down towards the floor. Keith kneels down next to him, far enough to not crowd him.

“You are, though. The other Shiro wasn’t here to help me through missions, or take back the Black Lion, or help Allura plan this whole big operation. _You_ did that.” Shiro’s head falls between his knees. He takes a few slow, deep breaths. They stay silent for a few minutes as Shiro calms himself down. Keith reaches a hesitant hand towards Shiro’s shoulder, and sighs in relief when he doesn’t flinch.

Shiro pulls his head up slowly. He turns towards Keith, a guilty twist to his features.

“I’m sorry for…earlier. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You could have gotten hurt, I could have—”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. You wouldn’t have hurt me,” Keith interrupts him. He doesn’t mean that Shiro would never hurt him, accidents happen. Keith means that he wouldn’t let Shiro hurt him; he’s able to protect himself.

Shiro sighs and runs his hand through his hair roughly. “Okay. But what if…what if there’s something in me that’s…programmed to try to hurt you? All of the decisions I’ve made for the team, all of the missions we’ve gone on…would he have done them differently? Would he have chosen safer routes, taken fewer risks? What if I’m programmed to make the wrong decisions?”

Keith’s guts twist angrily. “You weren’t ‘programmed’ to do anything. As far as Pidge, Hunk and Matt can tell, your memories are copied directly from the other Shiro. They didn’t change you.”

There’s a huff of breath, “He’s not the other Shiro, he’s _the_ Shiro. You’ll-you guys will have to figure out something else to call me.”

“Shiro, no you’re—”

Keith is cut off by the heat of Shiro’s glare. “I’m not him. I haven’t lived his life, I just have the memories of it. I don’t have the _right_ to be called that,” he says firmly. He pauses, and continues more calmly, “I remember, on the ship, the scientists were talking about a project ‘Kuron’. I think they meant me. I guess the team could call me that. I wonder if the Galra actually know any Japanese because—”

“Bullshit,” Keith interrupts. Shiro jerks a bit next to him at the edge to Keith’s tone. “There’s no way I’m calling you by something your fucking captors called you. Why would I even want- no. We can use...” he grasps wildly at ideas before it hits him. “Takashi. You can go by your first name. I don’t care if you think you deserve it, or you have the right to it. It’s your name, it’s _you_.”

There’s silence as Shir-Takashi takes in the idea. He looks incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden, his human arm pulls tight to his chest. He takes a deep breath. “No one’s called me that in a long time,” he admits. Keith doesn’t know how to reply to that. “It’ll take a bit to get used to.”

“It’ll take a bit for everyone to get used to calling you something different,” Keith adds. Sh-Takashi nods in response.

 “I just want to say…thanks for helping me with this,” Takashi says quietly. Keith shifts to bump their shoulders together.

“What did I tell you? I’m here for you, as many times as it takes.”

They’re quiet for a long time after that, sitting side by side on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Dreamworks? Could we get a release date on Season 5? I wanna know how fast I gotta write up these chapters before all my ideas are proven wrong.


	5. Lance

Lance is a man on a mission as he runs from the observation deck. He has the best- well maybe not the _best_ , but he has a great idea and he’s gotta see if he can make it work. All he needs to do is find Allura and see if she’ll even give his plan a shot.

He races onto the bridge, only to find it empty. A star map still rotates slowly in the middle of the room from an earlier discussion of where they could start looking for Shiro. Lance isn’t sure where he wants to check next. He wanders over to his seat and plops down to catch his breath and think. 

He’s gotten used to sitting in the Red Paladin station, even though Allura never uses the Blue Paladin one since she’s steering the ship. Lance rubs his hand back and forth on the control panel like he saw Keith do once or twice when he was using the chair. Lance frowns.

That thing with Keith...it really threw him for a loop. He had no idea that Keith felt that bad from leading Voltron. It sort of felt like when they lost Shiro the first time; Keith had been so on edge, ready to snap at any little thing. He hadn’t wanted to pilot the Black Lion then, but... Well everyone just thought that it would just take him time to get used to it. But after getting Shiro back…Keith kept pulling away from the team, he wasn’t there for missions, or for the shows. He kept showing everyone that he didn’t want to lead, but…no one listened. He didn’t think he was good enough for it and that...that sounds familiar. Lance digs a rough hand through his hair.

Seeing Keith completely broken down like that it...it felt absolutely awful. Keith wasn’t supposed to _break_. He was the hot headed, shoot first ask questions later pilot; nothing was supposed to faze him. Which was ridiculous, he was human (…well mostly) and everyone has their own stuff to deal with. But…having Keith shaking in his arms, it was almost frightening to realize he could fall apart just like the rest of them. Lance takes a shaky breath and runs his hand down his face. The worst part, Lance would have given just about anything to make Keith feel better back there. His chest ached with it. He would have stayed with Keith for hours if he asked. There’s something large swelling up in his chest, something he doesn’t quite have a name for and isn’t sure he wants to figure out. 

Luckily, he does have an idea that can help Keith _now_. Clapping his hands on his knees, Lance pushes himself up and out of the chair. He’s gotta focus and find Allura first if any of this is going to work.

He checks the lounge next, then the dining hall. He passes by aliens he doesn’t fully recognize and asks if they’ve seen the princess. They direct Lance to her bedroom. Which, well... He’s never been to before so that’s a bit weird. He feels inexplicably nervous all of a sudden.

Lance knocks on her door when he finds it and waits. In just a few moments it slides open, revealing Allura in her old battle suit. She has her hair braided in a long stretch down her back. Lance smiles unconsciously.

“Hey Princess, just wondering if you had a second to chat,” he says. Allura’s face lights up. 

“Of course. Come on in, and please excuse the mess,” she says. Her room is a lot nicer than any of the Paladins’, but that makes sense considering she’s a Princess. Lance cranks his head this way and that to look at everything: it’s large, with glimmering curtains hanging down from the ceiling. The back walls seem to glow as well with some strange material. He almost trips over his feet as he walks backwards to look at it. Luckily Allura doesn’t seem to notice. He follows her over to a desk that’s built into the wall, a tall mirror standing beside it. The mice are playing at her desk, digging through her belongings. Allura sits by them, picking the tiniest of them out of the jewelry she never has a chance to wear. A few clothes are out of place on the floor, along with a pair of slippers, but Lance thinks it looks pretty clean otherwise.

“This is messy?” he asks. Allura flushes a bit, dropping the mouse unceremoniously back into her jewelry box. It squeaks in surprise.

“Yes, apologies. I usually keep it better organized but with all of the planning and our most recent battle—”

“No, no! It looks fine! My idea of messy is a lot worse. Have you seen Pidge’s room? I think she has creatures living under her dirty clothes pile,” Lance assures her.

Allura frowns, “No I haven’t had a chance to see it. Are there…actual creatures? Wait no, I will ask her later. You’ve come to me about something important, what can I help you with?” She shifts in her seat to face him, expression open and excited.

Lance shifts to lean his hip against the desk, trying to figure out how to put his idea to words. He gives up on it for the time being. “Uh, before that. What are we doing with Lotor? Where did Hunk put him?”

“He has his own quarters for now. They were designed for…less trustworthy guests that were still prestigious enough to spend time at the castle. They are heavily monitored and have advanced security measures. Coran may also have doused him with a substance that we can track through the castle’s computer while he was still in his pod,” Allura adds with a grin. Lance imagines Lotor glowing in the dark as a result. He laughs. 

“So he’s all set! That’s good, that’s good. Uh the thing I wanted to talk to you about, um,” he looks down at his fingers and twiddles them uneasily. A hand reaches out to rest on his wrist, stilling his movement. 

“You’re nervous, what’s wrong?” Allura asks, bright blue eyes looking up at him. Lance blinks down at her hand before remembering he was trying to say something. 

“Nothing’s wrong! Well not with me. It’s, um, Keith.”

Allura draws her hand back; concern clouding her eyes. “Did you have a chance to speak with him? He took the news about Shiro so poorly... I hope he’s alright. He needs to apologize to Pidge, though. That’s not how Paladins should treat each other.”

She sounds tired, Lance realizes. He was worried about Keith, but Allura probably was looking at the big picture. She was probably thinking about how the team was going to move forward from here, what arguments could disrupt their connection, and the need to find Shiro. Everyone was so stressed out. Lance tries to think what he can do to help everyone, but comes up blank. He suddenly doubts his idea; it would just be another thing to add to Allura’s long list of responsibilities.

“I did talk to him. He, he’s not too happy about the whole thing with Shiro,” Lance starts off. Allura hums in understanding. 

“He cares about Shiro a great deal, no matter the circumstances.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the only thing. Keith...he doesn’t want to pilot the Black Lion again,” Lance says in a rush. Like ripping off a band-aid, right?

Allura freezes in her seat. The mice behind her prick their ears up in alarm. 

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to be the pilot of the Black Lion? He must be, we need him to be able to work together as Voltron,” her voice is tight. Lance pulls his hands out in front of him, shaking them quickly. 

“No, no, no! Well, ok, Keith said that he didn’t _want_ to pilot it, but that he would because the team needs him to,” Allura relaxes in front of him, “But...it really weighed on him to take Shiro’s place, especially after losing him for the first time. And...I don’t know, I think he’ll always feel bad about it because it reminds him of how that felt? Or maybe he felt like he could never lead as well as Shiro and I know that’s ridiculous. You and I know Keith can be a good leader when he takes a second to listen to everyone else’s advice. But I think, if he had to take up the position again...it wouldn’t be good for him.”

There’s a squeak as Allura’s chair pushes back for her to stand, causing Lance to jump. She walks towards her mirror, adjusting it so she can see herself. Lance can see her hard expression in the reflection. 

“It is always difficult to lead, no matter who you are. Shiro has his own difficulties with it, he just doesn’t voice them,” she says as she begins to undo the braid in her hair. She catches Lance’s eye in the mirror, “It’s going to be difficult, but I believe that Keith will be able to push through it. Besides, what alternative do we have?”

“You could lead Voltron,” Lance says quickly, nervous that she’ll shoot him down immediately. Allura’s hands freeze in her hair, halfway up into her customary bun. She blinks, head tilting to the side like she didn’t hear him correctly. 

“I...What?” she says eventually. Her hands fall, hair tumbling back down. Lance rubs his arm self-consciously. 

“I thought...When we were stuck on Naxzela you were able to connect to Voltron so well, and you did that amazing magical thing and...I thought it made sense that maybe you’re meant to be the head of Voltron,” he explains, feeling less and less confident. Allura looks back towards her mirror, eyes bright as she peers at her reflection. 

“I’m...not sure that is how the connection to the Lions works. I’m not overly assured that I would be able to perform the same feat. The Lion must always choose its own Paladin, and the Black Lion has already chosen Keith.” Lance can hear the reluctance in her voice, and he understands. She’d gladly take the position of the Black Paladin if she had the chance. 

“We don’t know if the Black Lion will want Keith again though, right? It might still choose someone else and…” he pauses before pushing off the desk to stand next to Allura. He watches their reflection in the mirror. “And I don’t know a lot about being a leader, but I do know that you’ve always been an amazing one, and that I can definitely see you leading Voltron.”

Allura’s face slowly blooms into a smile and jeez, if she isn’t the most beautiful girl in the entire universe in that moment. She turns to him with her eyes sparkling. 

“ _Thank you_ Lance, I don’t know if I can properly describe how much your words mean to me. Perhaps...perhaps after my meeting with Coran the two of us can make a visit to the Black Lion and see.”

Lance can’t help but smile back, “Yeah sure, sounds like a plan.” 

***

He waits outside the dining hall for Allura because she didn’t actually tell him where they would meet up and he wasn’t sure if he should just wait by the Black Lion or in his room so she could go grab him or- Yeah, it was just easier to stand outside the meeting to wait for her to get done. His foot taps restlessly on the floor as he leans against a wall. After their earlier chat, Lance had changed into his armor since this felt like ‘official Paladin business’. He’s looking forward to it just being the two of them; he wants to make sure to impress her. He’s also looking forward to getting to tell Keith that he won’t have to pilot the Black Lion anymore. There’s a swooping feeling in his chest at that thought. Will Keith be annoyed that he didn’t ask first? Or happy? Hopefully he doesn’t cry again, because Lance will pull a Hunk and cry right along with him. 

The swoosh of the door beside him pulls Lance from his thoughts. He jumps to stand up straight as Allura and Coran head out. Coran’s eyes widen in surprise at seeing Lance. 

“Lance! What in the blazes are you doing out here eavesdropping?” he asks. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! I was waiting for Allura!” Lance replies, mock offended.

Luckily Allura steps in with a hand at Coran’s elbow, causing him to calm down. “Yes, Coran, I have plans with Lance next. Thank you for helping me with the Vestex Governor.” 

“Oh! Well why didn’t you say? I’ll get out of your hair, then. Have fun you two!” he says, and takes off down the hall. Lance knows that Coran wasn’t suggesting anything with that last bit, but the idea gets stuck in his head that this is sort of, kind of, a bit like a date? As far as dates can go when you’re in the middle of a war, in the middle of space. 

“Are you ready to go?” Allura asks, and Lance quickly realizes she’s already halfway down the hall. He sprints to catch up with her.

“Yeah sorry! Uh, guess it’s just the two of us, then,” he babbles. Allura nods. 

“I thought it best for just us to try for now. There was no need to include the rest of the team yet,” she agrees, even if that wasn’t how Lance meant it. He laughs, nervous.

“Awesome! Just the two of us, testing out the Black Lion. Almost sounds like a first date to me,” he says, keeping his voice 90% joking so she can shoot him down if she wants. But there’s still 10% that says ‘I could totally be serious about this if you want to be too.’

Allura’s shoulders slump by his side and she sighs. Guess that was a no for today, then. Lance is used to it, the silent rejection barely stings.

“Lance, I have been meaning to talk to you about...this,” she gestures briefly between the two of them. 

Lance’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh? Really?” he asks and it would be really great if his voice could chill for one second and not jump up an octave. His heart drops as he catches her expression, though. She looks incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Yes I...probably should have done so sooner, but I did not wish to single you out before the whole group. You...you are very...forward when you are interested in someone else. And I have of course noticed when that interest is directed at me. I ignored it at first when I did not know you well. You were all going to be the defenders of the universe, you would soon forget about small romantic interests. But, you kept going, and joking about it, and letting your interest be known and I thought, does he not know it makes me uncomfortable? How can he not realize?”

Lance is cold all over; he’s frozen in place as he tries to figure out something to say. He finds nothing.

Allura continues. “And then I thought: he must not realize after all. And so I continued to not say anything because there was no need to draw attention to it. But then...I was able to become a Paladin of Voltron, I was able to fly Blue. I was a part of the group after so long! I realized that I wanted to get closer to all of you. I wanted to be counted among your friends,” she says with affection, longing filling her voice. “But I was worried, because when I try to get close to you, you...misinterpret my gestures. I want to be your friend, Lance. But I can’t if you keep pushing for something more.”

Lance feels sick with guilt, literally nauseous. He didn’t realize, he didn’t _know_ _at_ _all_ how his flirting had impacted Allura. He made it so that she was uncomfortable opening up around him, because he’d take it the wrong way like an asshole. He never thought that his silly flirting could mess with someone, or make them uncomfortable, he’d never meant to-

“I’m sorry, jeez, I’m so sorry Allura I never wanted to make you feel like that,” he says. He pushes a hand against his stomach to combat the negative sensation in his guts. “I’ll stop, now that I know. And I definitely want to be your friend, or like, better friends than we are now.”

Allura smiles a little at the last bit. “I’m glad you already consider us friends.”

“Dude, of course! We’ve been through battles, and food fights, and we put on performances together. You can’t _not_ be friends after doing theater,” he jokes to lighten the mood. It’s the least he can do, and it seems like it works as Allura looks relieved.

“Thank you for understanding. I’m glad I was able to get that off my chest,” she releases a deep breath, like she’s letting go of her own nerves. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”

She smiles to Lance and continues down towards the Black Lion. Trying to hide the expression on his face he follows a step or two behind. He feels horrible about himself knowing how he put Allura on the spot. He never wants to hurt his friends, and to find out that he’s been doing it unintentionally for _months_ is the worst.

He still feels gross as the two of them stand before the Black Lion, sitting in its hangar with its eyes dark. Allura turns to face him, giving a firm nod. Lance gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she heads towards the entrance to the Lion’s speeder. There’s silence in the hangar as he stands, waiting. A minute passes. Two. After about five minutes he plops down to the floor to wait. 

How can he make things up to Allura? He knows it isn’t necessary, but he wants to do something. Maybe he can invite her to the sleepovers the gang usually has? He realizes with a start that she would probably love them. The movies, the gossip, the makeovers, she’d be so happy. Lance regrets that he never thought to offer before. It always felt like there was a divide between the princess and the humans. And maybe that was it: he still thought of her as a title sometimes, instead of Allura. The girl who cares so much about everyone, who trusts so fully, who enjoys things so passionately. The least he can do is be a great friend for her.

There’s a hiss as the latch to the Black Lion releases. Lance’s heart plummets. Allura walks out: head down, fists clenched. Lance scrambles to his feet.

“It didn’t...?” he asks quietly. He should have known, she was in there for so long without any response. Allura shakes her head. 

“No, he was silent,” she says softly. This was a bad idea all around. He’d gotten Allura’s hopes up for nothing, and he wasn’t able to help Keith at all. He just keeps messing things up, huh?

“Sorry Allura, I shouldn’t have suggested it. I guess Keith is going to have to—”

“Wait, Lance. I want to try one more thing,” she says, cutting him off. He looks down at her, surprised to find her face full of hope. She moves to stand beside him, placing a hand on his back. “I think that you should give it another try as well.”

Lance looks up at the Black Lion in surprise. “Me?!” 

“I have a feeling. I could of course be wrong, but I see no harm in trying.” Her hand gently pushes him so he takes the first step. He looks back at her to make sure he’s hearing her correctly; she shoos him forward.

Lance hesitantly works his way towards the Lion, up into the pod bay inside. He feels nervous all of a sudden as he climbs up through the inner workings. The Lion is set up nearly identical to Blue and Red, just a bit bigger than what he’s used to. He works his way towards the cockpit, guiding himself by the low lights that illuminate the powered down beasts. 

A wave of nostalgia hits him as he sees the pilot seat. He sat in that chair for what felt like hours, hoping that he’d be the one chosen. It was his moment to shine, to prove to the rest of the team how useful he was, how great a pilot he was. It was a way for him to be recognized. 

He feels a lot smaller in the seat this time around. 

Looking back and forth at the panels, Lance tentatively settles back in the chair. He doesn’t reach for the controls just yet. The low hum of the Lion’s power slowly fills Lance’s ears. 

“I’m sorry that we keep doing this to you. We keep trying to make you choose another pilot. Maybe you just want Shiro back as much as the rest of us, huh?” Lance says. He tries not to feel ridiculous talking to a powered down Lion. “I wonder if you like Keith piloting you. I’d understand; he’s an amazing pilot.” Lance rubs the hand rest, distracted by his thoughts. “Maybe you’re happy with him but… He isn’t happy piloting you. Nothing wrong with you, of course!” Lance quickly flaps his hands to dissuade the idea. It’s a stupid idea to piss off a Lion that you’re still inside. 

The silence continues. Lance relaxes back into the seat, curling up a bit on the cushions. 

“I don’t know why you didn’t choose Allura. She’s perfect for it, she knows how to lead and she’d learn to fly you like an expert in no time. And me...before I wanted to fly with you for the… I guess the idea of it. I could be the big guy, the one who called the shots. I could show everyone that I wasn’t just a huge goofball.”

There’s the tiniest of shudders, but Lance doesn’t notice. 

“But now I know that’s not what it’s all about. It’s not about who the greatest pilot is, or who’s in charge. It’s about what’s best for the team. I just want them to be happy, and safe. And I guess if I can make that happen by piloting you, then I’d be happy too.” He rests his head back on the headrest, staring up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes for a breath, just taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he leaves to tell Allura that it was a bust.

Suddenly he can sense light behind his eyelids, far too much for just the dimmed cockpit. 

Wrenching his eyes open, Lance watches as the control panel lights up, seat automatically sliding forward to adjust for his height. He sits in stunned silence as the view screen lights up, displaying the flight deck. He sees Allura excitedly bouncing up and down, cheering. She’s happy for him. She’s happy that he…

That he’s now the Black Paladin. 

“No way,” Lance whispers as he touches the controls. They all respond to him, lighting up and displaying calculations. He can hear the Black Lion whisper faintly in the back of his mind. 

_Help._

It’s vague, but the message comes to Lance in waves. Help lead the team. Help keep them together. Help find Shiro.

“Yeah, I gotcha,” he whispers back.

***

They take their Lions out for an unscheduled test flight, just the two of them. Lance finds that the controls are a lot more similar to Blue’s than they are to Red’s. The Black Lion is huge, after all. He needs to take the turns and plan his moves accordingly. 

Before too long they touch back down, and Lance is thrumming with energy. He did it, he flew the Black Lion, and he did it _well_. The jaws of the Black Lion open for him and he walks out, turning to watch it return to its bay. There’s hurried footsteps coming at him from the direction of Blue’s hangar. Lance twists and grins at Allura as she races towards him.

“Lance! You did wonderfully!” she says, not stopping her stride as she lifts him up into her arms. She gives him a quick spin, only slightly crushing his lungs in her embrace. Lance laughs with what little air he has.

“Did I? I mean, yeah, I did! I flew the Black Lion!” he yells out into the echoing chamber. Allura sets him down on his feet once more.

“I shall go and let the team know—”

“Wait! Wait, I uh…I wanted to tell Keith first. I want it to be a surprise,” Lance says. He realizes that he has the opportunity to bring the good news to Keith, to see his reaction. Lance has no idea what that reaction will be, but it’s going to be _awesome_. Best friend of the year award was definitely going to him.

“Then I shall wait to hear back from you after you let Keith know. Oh, Coran is going to be so excited!” She says and waves as she heads off towards the bridge.

Lance takes off at a jog, checking his hip for the bayard magically stored there. The red weapon materializes at his side. As he comes up on Keith’s door, he takes it and holds it behind his back with one hand, knocking with the other. 

The door opens after a minute to Keith, staring at him blearily. He must have been sleeping or something. His eyes grow alert as he catches sight of Lance’s armor. 

“What’s wrong? Is something going on?” Keith asks, straightening up. Lance smirks. 

“Aw, nothing to worry about. Just, I got to thinking after our chat earlier,” Keith’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion, then he rolls his eyes, “Yup just our regular old chat earlier. I was just wondering, do you want to trade?” With that he pulls the bayard out from behind him with an over the top flourish. Keith stares at it, far from impressed. 

“What are you—? Trade it for what?”

“For the black one, obviously. I think that’s fair,” Lance continues, hoping he doesn’t have to spell it out for Keith. That would kinda ruin the whole reveal. 

Realization slowly dawns across Keith’s face. “Did you...Did you actually—?”

“Create a connection with the Black Lion? Absolutely did, no sweat.”

Keith reaches out with a hesitant hand towards the red bayard, gripping the pommel in an almost reverent way. Then he looks up to Lance with sheer, unadulterated joy.

And. 

Here’s the thing. 

Lance didn’t realize that he was at a tipping point, or that the point existed to begin with. It’d been building for a while now, without his recognition. But in that moment, he teeters over the edge. 

He falls in love with Keith. 

Head over heels, unabashedly in love.

He’s blindsided by it, just stuck staring at Keith who looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and- Lance did that. He’s the one who put that smile there, who took that burden from Keith because he wants him to be happy. And god, his chest feels like it’s full, but floating at the same time and he didn’t realize that this felt so different, so intense. He has no idea what to do with himself. 

“Lance, that was- This is the most amazing thing. I just...Thanks,” Keith breathes out, smiling down at the bayard. He sounds as stunned as Lance feels. 

Lance wants to just...do whatever he can to make sure Keith keeps smiling like that. He wants to wrap him up in his arms and stay like that for hours. He wants to make him laugh so he can see that smile as much as he can. Even more than that, Lance doesn’t want him to feel separated from the team any longer, doesn’t want him to feel like he’s going through things all by himself. Because what Keith needs right now is-

He needs his friends.

It feels like Lance’s chest is suddenly submerged in freezing water. All he can hear are Allura’s words echoing in his ears, “I want to be your friend, I can’t if you keep pushing for something more.” He absolutely doesn’t want to make any of his friends feel like that again, scared of the idea that he could push his friends away without realizing it. So he takes this overwhelming feeling and pushes it down, boxes it up somewhere in his chest and tries to leave it be. Didn’t he already figure out that he had no chance with Keith anyway? It doesn’t matter that his feelings feel ten times stronger; nothing was ever going to happen. It just feels a lot worse, now.

Lance takes an unconscious step back from Keith, the grin on his face constructed carefully.

“I’m glad I could help, dude. How about you go reconnect with Red?” he says. Keith’s head shoots up, eyes blazing with excitement. 

“You know what? I think I will,” he says, and takes off down the hall. Lance can hear his voice call as it echoes off the walls, “Thanks again, Lance!”

“You’re welcome!” he calls back before he realizes that Keith is probably too far away to hear.

He rubs a fist into the armor at his chest, trying to work out the knot of emotions there. He’s suddenly overwhelmed, standing in the middle of the hallway with his heart pounding out of his chest. He now has to lead the team _and_ figure out how to hide his newly discovered feelings for Keith. It was also just his luck that he was living on a ship full of blabbermouths, if he went to ask any of them for advice it was going to find its way back to Keith.

“Perfect, absolutely perfect,” he mutters to himself as he goes to find Allura. Time to tell the rest of the team the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two for the price of one updates. 
> 
> And a quick note, I have nothing against Allurance! I think it's a wonderful dynamic. Just not the direction I'm going for in this fic.


	6. Takashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for a character dealing with depression, intrusive thoughts, suicidal thoughts and disordered eating. Seriously folks, Takashi isn't doing too good.

There’s a knock on Shiro’s door, pulling him from a medically induced sleep. He sits up unsteadily, immediately checking his right arm. Relief floods his system as he feels the metal, warmed from his body heat. He never thought he would miss it, since it was the biggest reminder of his (first) time in Galra captivity. Waking to it missing...he felt far too vulnerable. Always having a weapon on hand gave him a sense of comfort he didn’t realize he relied on. Flexing the arm, he checks the feedback and sensitivity.

There’s another knock.

“Can I come in?” Coran’s voice calls from outside the room. Shiro stops his examination, realizing with a start that he forgot what woke him to begin with. 

“I’m awake,” he replies. Coran strides in, smiling broadly as he notices Shiro stretching his arm.

“Everything is in working order, I see. How does it feel? Hunk, Pidge and I think we did a pretty cracking job.”

Shiro swings the arm, powering it up so it glows a blinding purple. He nods in agreement. “Seems like it’s working like it should.”

“Good, good,” Coran says. He stands and casually looks around Shiro’s room. There’s an awkward pause, and Shiro wonders if Coran forgot what he came here for.

“Um...was there anything else you needed me for?” Shiro prompts after a minute. He wants to get to training, needs something to focus on or he’ll start thinking about the past few days. Or what’s coming up. Coran perks up.

“Oh, yes! While you were asleep, we made a detour to pick you up something special! If you could get dressed I’ll show you to the bridge,” he says and gestures towards the door.

Shiro nods and climbs out of bed, quickly stripping out of his undershirt and pajama pants into his usual clothes. He has no idea what they could have gotten him, and the uncertainty digs at him.

“You didn’t get...I thought I made my position clear on replacement cybernetics,” he says as he pulls on his boots, not looking to Coran. Before he was knocked out to reattach his arm, he had a discussion with Matt and Pidge about options for him after his eyes were deactivated. He flat out refused more technology. There was a fear in the back of his mind that he might end up replacing pieces of himself with more and more cybernetics until nothing original remained.

 _But that isn’t a problem anymore, is it? Nothing about him is origin_ —

Shiro digs his fingers sharply into the muscle of his thighs.

“Of course not! It’s something- well...Allura didn’t want me to ruin the surprise. She asked that she could see your reaction,” Coran says, bouncing on the heels of his feet with impatience to go.

Shiro sighs; he’s not getting an answer ahead of time, then. He stands to follow Coran down the hall.

“Oh, Takashi. I should have asked ahead of time but do you have any specific allergies? The usual things like dust, dander or acid rain?”

Shiro answers on auto pilot, only a small allergic reaction to strawberries, while his mind hooks onto the name that Coran and the rest of the team have begun to call him.

Takashi Shirogane. The only people who called him by his first name were his family. The memories are hazy now, dulled over time. He remembers a dimly lit dining room, balloons reflecting the light of the candles on his cake. His parents sang to him, _dear Takashi_ as he made his wish.

He moved in with his grandfather right when he turned seven, after the crash. Those memories are even harder to recall, the days blurred together in a dark haze. He was Takashi with him too, always Takashi at home. People only started calling him Shiro after he started school. His forms were filled out incorrectly, his first and last names mixed up on the paperwork. His teachers called him Shirogane, his classmates called him Shiro for short. It stuck, even after the mistake was corrected. He was Shiro through school, then cadet classes, and then as a full-fledged pilot. After his grandfather passed away…well. There wasn’t any reason to go by his given name. It feels strange to have it used again; it feels like a name for someone else.

He and Coran make their way onto the bridge, where Allura waits. She twists around as they approach, her skirts spinning with her. Something in Shiro hesitates, a tug of worry pulling at his chest. He hasn’t spoken to the princess since he found out about being…what he is. He still isn’t sure how each person on the team feel about it either. Even though he had no say in the matter, he knows that it will affect how the others view him. His gut twists as he remembers Allura’s reaction to finding out about Keith’s Galra heritage. He steels himself.

Instead she smiles, clasping her hands together excitedly. The tension eases a bit from his shoulders.

“There you two are! Takashi, I hope you do not mind that Coran and I made this purchase. You are under no obligation to keep it, but I believe it will help you greatly once you undergo your procedure,” she says, fighting back a grin. Shiro looks around to try and find whatever it is they’re talking about, and comes up empty handed.

“You can come out now,” Coran calls from behind him. Shiro freezes as a _creature_ stands up from behind one of the chairs, previously hidden from view. It slinks over towards him on all fours, feline in appearance. Allura doesn’t flinch as it passes her, and Coran doesn’t seem concerned either. Shiro assumes it must be safe. It takes a few steps to sit in front of Shiro.

“Ta-da!” Coran yells, smiling broadly.

Shiro looks down at the alien...creature in front of him, wondering what he’s supposed to say. Coran pauses and motions again, waving his hands more fiercely this time.

“I said, Taa-daaaa!” He takes a dramatic step back.

“It’s a...cat?” Shiro says hesitantly. He’s not actually sure, since it’s the size of a bull mastiff, purple, with yellow stripes running across its back. It’s long, oddly shaped tail flicks back and forth in the air; eyes boring into Shiro’s. 

“Not just any cat!” Allura assures him. “It’s one of the Gattogeya, an incredibly intelligent race that are trained to assist people!”

“So it’s...a seeing-eye cat,” Shiro summarizes. The cat blinks. Coran points with authority.

“A seeing-eye Gattogeya!”

Shiro feels a smile tug at his lips. He’s glad that he has other options for after the procedure, and he appreciates the two Alteans taking the time to find something for him. He kneels down in front of the cat at its eye level.

“Uh, hi, I’m Sh- Takashi. I’m Takashi. And you are?” he asks politely. Coran snorts. 

“She can’t talk, you know. She understands most of what you’re saying enough to be able to respond to commands and remember the names of things and locations, but she can’t hold a conversation. How funny, trying to talk to a Gattogeya!” he chuckles and Allura hides a smile behind her palm. Shiro sighs. He’s heard of the misunderstanding the two of them had with the cow Lance got at the space mall. This is what it must be like to be on the receiving end.

He stands back up. “So what is her name?”

“She doesn’t have one yet! You get to name her to strengthen your bond, it’s quite poetic!” Coran says with a hand posed dramatically over his heart.

Shiro pulls a blank; he’s never been good at naming things. A memory tugs at him at the sight of the markings down the cat’s back.

“When I was really little, I had this cranky tomcat that I named Mrs. Stripes. I couldn’t understand why my grandfather thought it was so fun—” the words die quickly in Shiro’s throat. It hits him, finally. _He’s_ never had a cat. _He_ never grew up in his grandfather’s creaky old home, running the man ragged with all of his energy. The memories he has before his time escaping the Galra ship are simply borrowed, copied from someone else. He stands, frozen, head spinning as he tries to hide his panicked breaths.

Coran and Allura look at him expectantly, not noticing his distress. Shiro forces his thoughts down, focuses on what’s immediately in front of him. He decides.

“Her name is Stripes,” he says, voice clipped. Stripes slowly blinks at him, and then nods. She walks up besides Shiro to rub against his leg. Her back nearly reaches his hip; she’s bigger than he thought. He reaches a hesitant hand down to pat her head and she leans into the touch.

“Stripes, I like it! A wonderful name. How about the two of you sit and get acquainted? I’ll grab some snacks,” Coran says and rushes out towards the kitchen. Shiro sits in Pidge’s seat, the closest one on hand, which puts him nearly eye level with Stripes. She leans her head down to rest in his lap, landing with a heavy thud.

“I must say, this is quite adorable,” Allura says, watching the two of them. Shiro fights back some indignation at being called adorable.

“It won’t be an issue having her on board with the mice?”

“Why would that cause an issue? Gattogeya in the wild prey on much larger creatures. And trained ones like Stripes eat prepared meat.”

Shiro nods, glad that there’s one less thing to worry about. He spends the next few minutes slowly petting her, just focusing on the feeling of her fur underneath his hand. He sighs, slow and steady. It feels nice.

***

The tour of the castle takes longer than he thought it would. Shiro didn’t realize how many places he needed to know how to get to until he had to list them all out. He shows Stripes the way from his bedroom to the bathrooms, to the central control room, to the Lion bay, to the kitchen and so on and so forth. There’s so much to show her and have her memorize. He’s a bit worried it might be too much all at once.

“And that was the media room; we sometimes have less formal meetings in there and sit on the couches. Would...maybe we could get a little bed in there for you to sit on when we have longer meetings there,” he says. It mostly feels like he’s talking to himself, but he doesn’t want to insult Stripes. Her tail flicks, which either means she’s interested or agreeing. He thinks. He’s really not sure.

The hallway in front of them splits off and Shiro begins to head right towards the training deck. But then he remembers where the other direction leads and his feet freeze in place as his heart stills in his chest.

He shouldn’t.

He shouldn’t give himself the option. He shouldn’t show Stripes how to get there. The idea has run through his mind a few times before, but now he can finally place it out of his reach. But...

But there’s a part of him that aches, constantly, painfully. There’s a voice that finds him at night and reminds him of all of the people that he’s hurt, all of the lives that he can’t remember taking. Usually he can’t hear it, or it just sits like background radiation in his thoughts. Sometimes it’s all he can hear. He was able to drown it out before by working with the team, fighting as Voltron, doing _good_. But now the voice has new things to feed on. It now tells him how he’s going to end up hurting his friends, that he’s not a proper person, that everyone would be better off if he was dead and—

He still wants the option.

Shiro stiffly turns left, Stripes following close behind. He feels numb as he walks down the hall, disconnected from his body. He stops before an armored door.

“Airlock,” he says quietly. Stripes flicks her tail in response.

Shiro turns back around to head towards the training deck. He doesn’t look towards Stripes until they get there.

***

He wakes to pitch black.

Shiro gasps and violently surges up to sit. Someone says something to his left, startling him. There’s something on his _face_ , he wants it off, he wants to _see_. 

“Wait, Takashi, don’t—!” Someone- Matt? Matt says.

He rips the thing off his face anyway. Shiro blinks. Everything is still pitch black.

“We thought it might help you adjust. You could acclimate to the darkness by thinking it’s due to the blindfold. Didn’t mean to scare you!” Coran says somewhere to his left. Shiro jerks away from the noise.

“Takashi, hey, calm down. It’s alright. It’s just me, Coran and Matt here.” That’s Keith he knows that voice. “Deep breaths, ok? Take some deep breaths for me.”

Shiro listens, forces himself to breathe in and out. In and out. He waits as he feels his head clear; the anesthetic leaving his system.

“I-I’m fine. Alright,” he gasps, closing his eyes to hide from the overwhelming dark. He shouldn’t be reacting like this, he _knew_ what was going to happen. So why did it come as a shock?

Something soft brushes against his leg with a low questioning hum. Stripes. She’s tall enough to rest her head on the bed. Shiro unconsciously curls in towards her, resting his forehead against hers. He times his breaths to hers. In. Out.

In.

Out.

***

Around day two is when it finally sinks in. ‘Around’ because his internal clock is even more messed up than it was when they first came to space, with only the dimming of the castle lights to denote day and night. He has no indications now. He’s spent whatever length of time it’s been bumping into walls, getting startled by others in the room, and feeling utterly useless as the team discuss battle plans and comment on maps he cannot see. He’s supposed to know what he’s doing, supposed to have everything figured out. He’s supposed to be _useful_ to the team, and if he’s not then what’s even the point of him being there?

He especially feels adrift in his own room, late at night since everyone else is asleep. The dimensions of the walls stretch out in his mind until it feels like he’s on the plane that he fought with Zarkon, endless and dark. He sits frozen on his bed, afraid to move a muscle in case he might disappear into the nothingness.

He doesn’t sleep well.

***

During the day Keith sits and talks with him, which he appreciates. He talks about the programs Hunk, Pidge and Matt are working on to try and locate _Shiro_ , how it’s been flying Red again, how Lance is doing as the new Black Paladin. Shiro closes his eyes and lets the words flow over him, somehow too tired to respond, but glad to have the distraction.

“Lance has us practicing formations and forming Voltron, for when we have to do it in battle. He said he didn’t want to leave it up to chance that we could do it in the heat of the moment,” Keith says, Shiro is certain he can hear a smile in his tone. “We got it on the second try, which Allura thought was pretty impressive. Lance has been helping her and Coran out with the Alliance meetings, but I don’t think he’s enjoying those as much from what I’ve heard.”

Shiro shifts on his bed as he listens. It sounds like Keith is getting along better with Lance, which is good. It would definitely help the team’s dynamic in the future. There’s also a familiar ache in his chest, hearing about yet another person taking up the role of Black Paladin. He thought he’d gotten over his desire after Keith took the position, but hearing about Lance… Maybe he was never meant to pilot the Black Lion to begin with. It would explain why he wasn’t able connect with it when he first returned (arrived?) to the castle. The Black Lion already knew there was something wrong with him.

After a short pause, Keith continues. “I think Lance wants to ask you for advice on leadership, or some pointers,” his voice sounds slightly strained. Shiro realizes it’s just been him talking for perhaps an hour.

Shiro clears his throat, realizing that a reply is needed. “I don’t think I’m up to giving out advice right now,” he says, thinking of the jealousy that sits tight in his chest, of the energy it takes to make it to each team meal. He lapses back into silence.

“It would mean a lot to him,” Keith insists. He doesn’t push further, though, quickly picking another topic to discuss. Shiro listens until Keith leaves to head to bed. He doesn’t fall asleep for a long while.

***

“Annnnd here’s yours, Takashi!” Hunk announces to his right, the clink of a plate hits the table in front of him. Shiro gives a small smile.

“Thanks,” he says, feeling around for his utensil.

“I uh, did something different for you tonight. I saw that you were having a bit of difficulty eating the last couple of days so I thought, hey maybe I could make something that you don’t have to fight with on the plate? So I experimented a bit and did some blindfolded taste tests to see which were easiest to eat. And I ended up on this, I hope you like it!”

Shiro pauses above his food, overwhelmed for a moment. That was a lot for Hunk to do, especially since he didn’t have to. It means a lot.

“Thanks, Hunk,” he says softly, feeling around with his spork until it bumps against something. He stabs it, and takes a bite.

“I made these cube...things that won’t roll around on the plate so they’ll be easy to eat. The outside is also sort of fried so you can pick them up with your fingers if you’d like! And I think the inside is sort of like mashed potatoes...if they tasted like chicken,” he continues, sounding nervous. Everything has tasted dull and unappetizing the past few days, so Shiro is surprised to discover that the food is delicious. His appetite has taken a nosedive, so _wanting_ to eat something comes as a welcome change.

Shiro hums his appreciation with his mouth full, picking up another cube. Hunk laughs in relief.

“Let me know if you have any other suggestions! I want to give you a whole bunch of options,” Hunk says, then continues on to drop another plate down to Shiro’s left.

***

_He’s in the bathroom, shaving in the mirror with the razor he had when he was sixteen. He tilts his chin up in the stark overhead lights and something glints. He looks at his reflection. Pure yellow eyes stare back. His hand jerks, razor biting into flesh and he snarls. Blood drips down his cheek into the sink. His fist pulls back to crash through the mirror, it connects with a child, an alien. He’s in the gladiator ring, weapon in hand. The child cowers in front of him, hands up, shaking. He raises the sword up, up, above his head. It crashes down. Pidge. It’s Pidge, now, on the floor of the training deck, Black bayard pierced through the armor of her stomach. A scream, a shout. Guilt, fear, he didn’t mean- He didn’t want to-_

He wakes to blackness, gasping in the dark. The dream feels more real than anything else, he could _see_ in his dream, color and distance and pain. It might even be real, he’s not sure. He shivers uncontrollably under his covers, sweat drenching his skin. He has nothing to calm him down, nothing to derail his thoughts. He’s a monster, he always was a monster but now it’s worse. He’s just a shadow now. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen and he’s not sure if he’s capable of preventing it.

A brush of fur rubs against his arm causes him to flinch.

He can solve this. He can make his thoughts stop racing, his stomach from rolling, his heart from beating too fast.

He reaches out clumsily for the sensation, the soft fur, and connects with warmth at the side of his bed. He leans against Stripes to get up on shaky limbs. 

“Airlock, bring me to the airlock,” he rasps, his voice too loud in the silent room. Stripes shifts to stand up and Shiro follows her lead.

His mind is black fuzz; he forces himself to focus only on the cold of the hall and the sound of Stripes’ feet against the floor. He’s made a decision. He sticks with his decisions.

A door slides open, down a flight of stairs, left, right, Shiro has no idea how far they are. He doesn’t care. He tries not to think.

Another door. A clicking noise, repeating, arrhythmic. A soft sound.

“Takashi?”

He freezes, standing straighter. Pidge?

“What are you doing up?” She asks, sounding surprised. The clicking has stopped. It must have been her fingers on the keyboard.

Shiro takes a deep slow breath. He fights back a wave of nausea from hearing her voice, his dream coming to the forefront of his mind. Pull it together, calm down. He doesn’t want to scare her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he settles on. Stripes takes another step forward and Shiro follows her lead, not wanting to be alone in an unknown room. There’s a step, no, there’s two. Stripes sits down to let him know he can relax. He reaches a hand down to feel fabric pulled tight over cushions. He’s in the lounge.

“Oh...” he mutters, orienting himself now with his memory of the room.

“Did you get lost?” Pidge asks. Shiro rests a hand on Stripes’ head. She has never led him to the wrong place before. He wonders if it was a mistake, or if she intentionally didn’t listen to him.

“No, just a bit disoriented. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up.”

“Well, you know me,” Pidge says, and the rest is easy to fill in. She’s a night owl, or a chronic insomniac. Shiro remembers listening to Matt complain about finding her up at all hours of the night on her computer. He sinks a bit further into the couch. 

“What are you working on?” he asks; glad to have something to distract him. He focuses on Pidge, on the sound of her fingers across her keyboard.

“Well...actually,” Pidge says hesitantly, sounding unsure of herself. “I’m making something for you.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised. Pidge has felt a bit distant since the team found out. He didn’t blame her, wouldn’t have blamed any of them for feeling differently about him.

“Yeah, here I’ll show you. Hold out your hand for me,” she says. There’s a squeak as the fabric on the couch shifts. Shiro holds his human hand out expectantly, and doesn’t flinch when something light drops into it. He runs his fingers over it, trying to figure out what it is. 

“You know way back when in Earth history, people used these little headset things to answer their cells? I don’t know what they were called, probably something stupid. And, well, the thing I made does more than answer calls. It has a camera that can scan and interpret the things it sees to relay them to you in that earpiece. It can scan documents and transcribe them for you. It can give you a general description of your surroundings if you ask and it can identify people in the room with you. You can try it on and see how it’s working, if you want.”

It’s a lot of information to take in at once. Shiro decides to just give it a shot. It takes some adjusting to make sure it sits on his ear right, but he gets it after a moment. A pleasant computerized voice speaks into his ear.

“Room: Lounge. Occupants: Giant Space Cat and I’ll Think of a Cool Nickname for Me Later.” Shiro huffs out a surprised laugh.

“Giant space cat?” he asks gently. Pidge squawks. There’s frantic typing on the keyboard. 

“I forgot that I put in placeholder names while I was programming! Here, give me a second.”

Shiro shakes his head, “No it’s...I like it. It’ll just take a bit to get used too. Good work,” he reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder, but just connects with the back of the couch. He frowns.

“Oh, I moved back over to my laptop. Maybe I could add a proximity sensor that you could use on different people or features in a room...” her voice peters off as she thinks. Shiro takes the earpiece off and places it on the couch to give back to Pidge.

The numbness he was feeling before is starting to fade, replaced by a warmth in his chest. He didn’t expect the team to still try so hard for him, when they knew that the actual Shiro was still out there. They thought he was worth the effort. It would hurt them, if he killed himself. 

The urge wasn’t a new one. It swallowed him from time to time, even when things with the team were going well. ‘Things would be better if I were dead,’ running on repeat in his head. He just thought it was something he needed to brave through on his own. But tonight it was all encompassing, louder than it’s ever been. He came way too close. The realization sends a shiver down his frame. He…he needs to do something about these thoughts, or at least tell someone else. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Shiro makes one of the most difficult decisions in his life.

“Pidge, would you mind grabbing Coran? Or Matt? I need to talk to them about something.”

“I don’t think either of them are awake, it’s still the middle of the night,” Pidge says, uncertain. 

Shiro knows if he doesn’t do this now, he might lose his nerve. “It’s important.”

“O-oh, well uh. I’ll be right back,” she says, sounding nervous. Shiro hopes he didn’t scare her. He doesn’t want to worry her, hopes she won’t ever have to deal with the same things kicking around in her brain like he does. He probably shouldn’t be asking Matt, either. He’s still younger; he doesn’t need to be burdened with whatever is wrong inside of Shiro. But no, Matt’s nearly his age, and has gone through nearly as much as he has. Who’s to say Matt isn’t facing similar demons? 

It doesn’t feel like any time has passed when he hears the door slide open once more. He wishes he still had Pidge’s device on his ear to know who it was.

“Hey Takashi, how are you feeling?” Coran asks, voice steady and warm. Shiro lets go of the tension in his shoulders, realizes that he was tensed up so much that he’s shaking at the release.

“Gonna be honest with you, you don’t look too hot,” Matt adds to his right. Shiro’s lips quirk up in a smile before he can stop himself. He’s in his pajamas, which are probably soaked through with sweat, hair most likely sticking out in every direction. He probably looks like a huge mess.

“Don’t feel too hot, either. Is Pidge in here too?”

“No, I told her to head off to bed,” Matt answers. Shiro exhales in relief.

“What did you need to talk about?” Coran asks. Shiro’s throat feels dry, making his voice catch. He’s not sure how to start.

“Our...our first smaller show. You took us to a veteran’s hospital. Why was that your first choice?”

“Well, I suppose it’s because of my experience with the war with Zarkon, back 10,000 years ago. I saw the ramifications of fighting through my friends and loved ones, coming back injured. I know how difficult it is for some people after they finish fighting, sometimes they need some cheering up!”

Shiro can’t stop himself from talking around what he needs. “Did...did any of them come back...different? Or, affected not just...physically by the fighting?”

The cushions to his left sink as Coran sits. His voice is softer as he continues. “Of course. Some had traumatic stress; they couldn’t relax or find comfort in the civilian posts they were transferred to. Others had locked memories away to the point they had difficulty functioning in their day to day life. Some fell into depression, so affected by what they experienced on the battlefield. A lot of them needed help and support afterwards.” Coran quiets after that, Shiro assumes he’s lost in memory. He forgets that Coran and Allura had already been through so much when they first met on planet Arus.

“I saw it too, among the rebels. After enough time and pressure, it gets to you,” Matt adds. Shiro nods mechanically. 

“Yeah, it does,” he whispers, almost to himself. He can feel Matt sit down next to him. His hand gently brushes against Shiro’s to let him know it’s there, then grips tight. 

“Do you need help?” Coran asks, and even though it’s delivered with care it lands like a punch to his gut.

It was probably painfully obvious already, but Shiro finds it hard to voice. His brain beats a panicked chant ‘now or never, now or never’ but he knows that’s not true. They know something is wrong. It’s no longer a secret he’s keeping. 

“Yeah, I think I do,” he says, and grips Matt’s hand tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this story going to make sure that everyone on the team has the love and support they need? The answer: absolutely.
> 
> Gattogeya is based off of the Spanish term for guide dog, perro guía. Except I changed it to gato instead. And Stripes well...Stripes wasn't supposed to be based on anything, I just thought a giant purple cat would sound like a cool alien companion and then. Then I realized that I was literally imagining [Liepard](https://cdn.bulbagarden.net/upload/thumb/0/09/510Liepard.png/250px-510Liepard.png) from Pokemon. Takashi gets a therapy Pokemon fight me.


	7. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both this and the next chapter are...hefty. Enjoy!

_If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see_  
_Of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak_

“Are you sure you want to do it this way?” Keith asks for the second time, feeling a bit exasperated. Lance shifts nervously in front of him, spinning the Black bayard in his hands. 

“Ok, so I know it’s not the _best_ idea. But come on! Just imagine the look on his face. I gotta do it just for that,” Lance shoots back. He looks excited, but Keith can sense nervous tension under that excitement. Keith has no idea why Lance is suddenly lacking his usual confidence. The past week he’s been amazing, he absolutely blew Keith’s expectations away with how great of a leader he could be.

Lance has gone to every tactical meeting with Allura and sometimes Takashi (when he was up for it), has spearheaded relief efforts on the planets where the resistance battles fared the most damage and has been contacted by planets and civilizations galaxy wide who have new interest in joining the coalition. He’s always had a way with words, but seeing him actually apply it to diplomatic stuff is a bit crazy. And if he wasn’t doing any of those things, Lance would be out practicing with his new Lion, learning the ins and outs of piloting the head of Voltron.

So it comes as a surprise to see Lance, light bags under his eyes, looking unsure of himself in front of this new task.

“I just don’t think the introduction is necessary. I know you’re going to do a great job with everything else,” Keith says, bumping his shoulder against Lance’s. Lance loosens up a bit and smiles.

“Oh really? Thanks Keith, you sure know how to flatter a guy,” Lance says as his arms cross over his chest.

“I’m serious; you’re doing much better than I ever did in your position. You’re a natural at it,” Keith says, more seriously this time.

Lance lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “A natural? So it’s true what they say about fake it ‘til you make it,” He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Keith’s attention is drawn to the bags underneath them.

“Are you not sleeping?”

Lance shrugs. “I am, it just takes a bit to fall asleep. It’s a lot to get used to, I guess. It’s a lot to learn.” He catches sight of whatever expression is on Keith’s face. “Hey! It’s no big deal, I have Takashi and Allura and Coran showing me the ropes. They’re a huge help.”

Keith feels a lurch in his chest. He knows he didn’t ask Lance to take up the position for him. But he went and did it anyway, because he knew that Keith didn’t want it. In another universe (alternate reality?) it would have been him making all these decisions and doing the extra work. It’s unfair that it’s now all on Lance’s shoulders. 

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Keith offers, hoping that Lance will take him up on it. He wants to support Lance. Just like when he was the Black Paladin and needed the help. 

“Maybe you could come to the next meeting we have with the coalition ambassadors. I nearly fell asleep halfway through and Takashi couldn’t tell until I started to snore a bit.”

“Yeah, sure. I can keep you awake,” Keith agrees. It sounds like a small price to pay to not have to be the one responsible for the whole team. Lance perks up. 

“Really? You’d be cool with helping out with the meetings?”

“Of course. I have to pull my weight somehow as your right hand man,” Keith says, grinning up at Lance. 

Lance stills for a moment, and Keith could almost swear he looks a bit flushed. Lance coughs into his hand and looks away, nodding. 

“Y-yup sounds good! How about uh, you should head on in and we’ll get started.”

“Are you are you’re alright?” Keith asks. He leans a bit to try and get a better look at Lance, who just shoots him a thumbs up.

“All set! Let’s do this,” he says. Keith gives him a level stare, before turning towards the dining hall. Allura stands outside the door, a small frown across her features. 

“Is Lance certain this is necessary?” she asks. Keith just shrugs, his Paladin armor clinking with the movement.

“He thinks it’s a good idea. I don’t think it’ll hurt anything, so why not?” He squares his shoulders, suddenly ready to defend Lance’s idea where two ticks ago he wasn’t sure himself.

“I got it!” Pidge’s voice calls from down the hall. She races past Keith and Allura to hand Lance his comm. “It took some ridiculous coding and searching through illegal earth databases among alien races but _I found it_!”

Lance’s face lights up; he takes the comm and pockets it before giving Pidge a fist bump. “This is perfect! Thanks Pidge, I owe you!”

She shifts her glasses up her nose dramatically, a smile curling up on one side. “Usually I would totally hold you to that, but I think getting to see this in action is payment enough.”

“Do I even want to know?” Keith asks, shooting a look between the two of them. Matching grins spread on their faces.

“You’ll see soon enough! Now go on, you need to go in ahead first for this to work!” Lance says, shooing him forward with his hands. Keith rolls his eyes and hits the button for the door.

The dining hall has been cleared out for the meeting; only two people sit at the long table. The ‘guest of honor’ sits at the end, no longer cuffed at the wrists. Prince Lotor’s eyes bore into Keith’s, a muscle twitching near his lip in something that could be mistaken for a smile. Hunk sits near him, having been the one who pulled the short straw to get Lotor from his quarters. He sighs in relief at having another person in the room with him. Lotor stands as Keith enters, arms tucked sedately behind him.

“I suppose some congratulations are in order. You have once again taken the position as the Black Paladin. It will be good to catch up with you after these days of isolation.”

Keith ignores the crawl of irritation across his skin at the sound of Lotor’s voice. He plops down into a seat halfway down the table, arms crossed in the most disinterested fashion he can achieve. 

“Nope, not me. Wasn’t feeling it,” he says. Lotor tries to cover the flash of confusion across his face. 

“But, you were the one who piloted it in the previous leader’s absence. Who else would—”

Allura takes this opportunity to stride into the room, with Pidge following closely behind. Pidge takes a seat next to Hunk and tries to hide a snicker as she looks at Lotor’s expression. 

Allura nods in acknowledgement, “Prince Lotor, I’m glad to see you are doing well. I hope the rooms we have provided have been sufficient.”

Lotor’s confident smile returns. “Ah, I should have known. It must be a great honor for the Black Lion to have chosen you, Princess.”

Allura sits down next to Keith, grinning. “No, I wasn’t chosen.”

Keith watches as Lotor’s face starts to twist in annoyance. “If none of you are the Black Paladin, then who—”

The doors to the dining hall fly open, and Lance strolls in. His comm is blasting some sort of [theme music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cZ7ndjhhps&feature=youtu.be&t=11s) as he enters. Both Pidge and Hunk slap a hand across their mouths to stop from bursting out in laughter. Lance falls into his chair, propping his feet up onto the table with the biggest shit eating grin across his face. 

“That would be me.”

Keith has to pinch himself to keep from laughing at the utterly stunned look on Lotor’s face.

“You, you what?” He snaps, losing his calm and collected facade. 

“I’m the new Black Paladin, got chosen and everything. Which I think totally makes sense; I should have been leading this joint since day one. But hey! Now I’m here. So, how’s it going?”

Lotor stands frozen at the opposite end of the table, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Is this...Is this a joke? I’m not sure if I should be amused.”

Lance flips the Black bayard out from underneath the table, spins it in the air as it transforms to his regular blaster, then flips it to his opposite hand, transforming it seamlessly into his sniper rifle. Keith feels a flush of pride at the smug smile on his face. 

“Not a joke, I’m the one calling the shots here. Get it? Shots?” he waves the sniper rifle in his hand before recalling it back to its basic form. There’s a cut off snort from Pidge. 

Lotor’s expression hardens as he reclaims his seat. “Very well. I shall address my concerns to you, then. I would like- I want to- can you shut off that _noise_?” he growls. Lance smirks.

“Of course dude, I got you,” he flips his comm out of his pouch and turns the music off, “Feel free to lay those concerns on me,” Lance says, so incredibly informal that Keith coughs to cover a laugh. Lance looks over to him and shoots him a small smile.

Lotor tries to calm his breathing, but Keith can see he’s quickly losing his composure. “I would like to send a message to my generals. They are also on the run from the Galra Empire, and I would like for them to be offered a safe haven as well.”

Lance pushes his chair so that it slowly spins in place, “A message huh? That sounds a bit risky, you know? How about it Pidge, whaddya think?”

“If he needs to use a secure encryption he’d have to show me the original message and the encryption. I don’t think it’s a good idea to send out mystery messages from the Voltron Coalition headquarters,” Pidge says. 

“Of course, I would provide you with the code we use,” Lotor offers.

“Alright, we can definitely do that favor for you. So how about a favor for us?” Lance says, leaning forward on the table. His expression shifts from disinterested to fierce. It does something weird to Keith’s stomach, if he’s being honest with himself.  “We need better search criteria to find Shiro. You’ll help Pidge and Hunk out with the program to narrow things down. Or maybe help us sort through the data. After that Pidge will send out your message if she thinks it’s safe.”

The expression on Lotor’s face darkens. “That’s hardly fair. I believe I’ve already given you enough evidence of my trustworthiness to at least send out a message. I refuse,” his frustration leaks into his tone.

“Well how about this? You give the science squad better search criteria, and maybe we can do something else for you? Got anything in mind?” Lance asks. The last part comes off comically flirtatious, which agitates Lotor even more.

“There’s _plenty_ else! I—” he pauses to collect himself. The tension falls from his shoulders and when he looks back up Keith can see his eyes have cleared. Lance’s smile fades a bit from his face. “I would appreciate a tour of the castle. I know next to nothing about my mother’s people, and would like an opportunity to learn more about them.”

There’s a small jerk of movement to Keith’s side. Allura sits rigidly in her chair, eyes drawn away from Lotor. Keith rests a hand on her arm to snap her out of it.

There’s a loud snort from Lance’s end of the table. “A tour? That’s all? And here I was worried that you’d ask for something bigger. Yeah sure you can get a tour. Hey, Allura. Do you think Coran would be free to show him around?” he asks, which manages to catch her attention.

“I…I’m sure he would be _honored_ ,” she says, and Keith fights back a shiver of fear. She doesn’t sound too happy with Lotor sightseeing around the castle.

“Then we’re all set! Good meeting everyone, great job all around! Positive reinforcement to all you guys. Pidge, how about you and Hunk escort Lotor to help you with those programs? Better sooner than later, right?” he says, the bravado back in full force.

Lotor pushes himself up from the table with force. “There were still a few more things—”

“And I’m sure we’ll get to them dude, chill! Let’s work on one thing at a time,” Lance cuts him off, Lotor visibly fuming.

“Very well, we’ll speak later Black Paladin,” Lotor says. He follows closely behind Hunk, with Pidge behind him. She shoots a thumbs up to Lance before the door closes behind them.

A short bout of silence fills the room.

Until both Lance and Keith burst out laughing.

“You-you pissed him of so quickly!” Keith gasps, already filing away Lotor’s expressions for later. It wasn’t better than punching him in the face, but it would have to do.

Lance wipes tears from his eyes, giggling. “It didn’t take much! Jeez, that guy tries to get everything to go his way, but he can’t take someone messing with him for a dobash.”

Allura smiles as well, the tension from earlier disappearing. “I initially doubted the tactic, but I believe it went well. His first request—”

“Yeah, wanting a _tour_? Like that doesn’t sound suspicious,” Lance says, rolling his eyes. “That’s why I suggested Coran show him around. He knows the castle better than anyone else. If Lotor tries anything funny he’ll be the first to notice.”

That pulls Keith up short. He didn’t realize Lance had put so much thought into this. Pride swells once again in his chest, mixed with something a little more familiar and annoying. He coughs to distract himself from it. No reason to get sidetracked by his feelings right now.

“Very well done, I don’t know if anyone could have handled it better,” Allura says with a soft smile.

“If all of your plans involve pissing Lotor off, then I’m absolutely behind them,” Keith adds.

“Thanks, guys. And I’ll see what I can do for you, Keith,” he says, grinning at the two of them. He pushes himself up using the table, “Now, who’s hungry? We’re this close to the kitchen let’s get some snacks.”

***

Later that night Keith mechanically gets ready for bed. It’s been a long day of training, aiding new refugees and transporting supplies. He also spent a bit of time with Takashi after dinner, happy to see that he seems to be doing better. It’s no longer Keith filling the silence of the room as Stripes sits quietly at Takashi’s feet. Keith isn’t sure what changed, but he’s thankful to whatever it was.

A knock at his door interrupts him as he’s sliding off his jacket. Keith shrugs the sleeve back up as he answers it, wondering who wanted to talk so late. The doors slide open to show Lance, leaning against the door jamb, beaming. He of course is already in his over the top Altean pajamas.

“Hey there, Keith my man. Got any plans tonight?” he asks. Keith blinks, not sure if he’s hearing something extra in Lance’s tone or if he’s just imagining it.

“Um. Sleep?” he replies.

“So no plans, then. How about instead of that, you come join Hunk, Pidge and I in Hunk’s room for a sleepover?” he asks excitedly.

“A sleepover,” Keith repeats back, voice flat.

“Yeah like you know, blow up mattress, snacks, movies. The works. Come on, it’s therapeutic,” Lance insists.

“I’ll pass; I actually want to get some sleep,” Keith says, mentally running through all of the things he has planned for tomorrow.

“What, no come on! I’m the leader now, so you should—”

Keith laughs. “Y-you can’t just order me to have a slumber party with you!” he says incredulously, continuing to smile as Lance pouts. 

“Then why even be the leader? I already told Hunk and Pidge you were coming, pleeeease?” he bats his eyes at Keith in such an over the top way that Keith just stops him with a hand to his face. Lance splutters against his palm. 

“Fine, fine, you know what? I’ll go. As long as you promise you guys won’t keep me up all night.”

Lance pulls Keith’s hand away and then gestures noncommittedly, “Sure, of course dude. You head on over to Hunk’s room, I have some stuff I need to grab.”

He waves to Keith as he heads off down the hall towards his room. After grabbing his pillow, Keith heads the opposite direction towards Hunk’s. The door opens automatically as he approaches. Keith sticks his head in.

There’s an extra mattress set up next to Hunk’s bunk, blankets piled haphazardly on top. Pidge sits cross-legged in the middle playing with her comm to project something on the far wall. Hunk is placing snacks on a small table he must have stolen from somewhere else in the castle. Both of their heads pop up as Keith enters.

“Hey! Glad you could make it dude! Take your shoes off and get comfortable,” Hunk says gesturing towards Pidge’s shoes already tucked in the corner. “I’ve got some snacks that the Olkari gave me the recipe for, some regular goo if you wanna go old school, and I finally was able to replicate popcorn! Sort of…” he looks down at the last bowl. “They came out kinda gross looking but they taste good, I swear.”

Keith looks into the bowl and sees a collection of strange purple puffy things. They look slightly toxic. But Hunk gives him a hopeful look, so Keith just shrugs and takes a handful. The taste is…confusing. But there’s a bit of a crunch, and the _idea_ of butter and salt so it seems close enough.

“They’re good,” he says, taking another handful. Hunk beams.

“See, someone likes them!” he says to Pidge who just shrugs.

“They’re too salty,” she complains.

“Popcorn is supposed to be salty!” Hunk argues back. The door behind Keith slides open.

“Did I hear something about popcorn?” Lance asks loudly. He’s carrying an entire armful of stuff, a bowl filled to the brim with different bottles, a mirror and a few towels.

“Dude! You gotta try some they’re really good—”

“Where’s Allura? I thought you said you were inviting her,” Pidge interrupts Hunk. Lance shakes his head.

“I asked but she said she wanted to get some sleep for the meeting with the Attolian Federation tomorrow,” he says as he lays out his supplies on the floor. Pidge drops her comm onto the bed, projection going askew. She grins at Lance.

“Aw, there goes your plans for this evening,” she says, voice teasing. Hunk laughs.

“Thank goodness, we wouldn’t have heard the end of it if Lance got to share a bed with Allura. Or if he had the chance to ask for a round of spin the bottle,” he says rolling his eyes.

Lance’s face quickly turns beet red, and Keith fights down a sudden spike of jealousy. He grips his fists around his pillow, and keeps his mouth shut tight before something stupid comes out. He’s got no good reason to be jealous, it doesn’t matter. It just would have been annoying to listen to Lance freaking out over Allura the whole night. That’s it. That’s all.

But Lance looks uncomfortable instead of disappointed. “Nah, that ship sailed. She officially turned me down a while ago.” He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant and failing. Keith experiences a weird form of emotional whiplash as the jealousy drops out of his system. He feels an odd combination of relief and sympathy.

Pidge’s face falls. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have teased you if—”

Lance cuts her off with a wave of his hand, grinning. “It’s totally fine! I should’ve seen it coming. Now Allura and I can be best buds.”

“Don’t worry, there’s definitely someone out there for you,” Hunk says encouragingly. Lance laughs.

“Thanks buddy, ‘ppreciate it. Now, who’s ready for face masks?” he asks, spreading his arms wide over his assortment of bottles.

Pidge groans next to Keith and Hunk’s head pops up in excitement.

“Oh man! We haven’t done that in ages!” Hunk says as he rolls off the bed and onto the floor. Keith takes a hesitant seat next to Pidge on the edge of the bed.

“Count me out. I hate how that yuck feels on my face,” she says, sticking her tongue out dramatically.

“I thought girls were supposed to like this kind of stuff?” Hunk says as he watches Lance mix whatever junk he’s using into a bowl. She shoots him a nasty look. 

“And I thought guys _weren’t_ supposed to like them.”

Hunk shrugs, unfazed. “Good point. Hey Keith, you should totally try this out! It feels super nice. Especially when Lance puts it on, he does this thing when he rubs it in—”

“Ooooooor you could put it on him! How about that wonderful great idea, Hunk?” Lance asks as he stirs the mix more forcefully than before. Keith silently agrees. He’d jump out of his skin with Lance’s fingers massaging him.

“No way! He needs the whole experience. Have you ever had a face mask before, Keith?”

“No? I don’t think so?”

Pidge laughs beside him. “You don’t think so? This just in, Keith is an amnesiac but only forgets skin care routines.”

“Shut up,” Keith shoots back, elbowing her in the side. Or at least, he tries to. She quickly rolls out of the way onto Hunk’s bed. Lance ignores them both and gets to work. Keith thinks he’s just going to slather it all on Hunk’s face, but instead he takes his time. He works the stuff in in slow gentle circles, from chin to forehead. Hunk begins to hum quietly half way through, totally relaxed. 

Keith looks away and down towards the pillow in his lap. A thought occurs to him. “How are we all going to fit?” he asks Pidge. She shrugs. 

“We’ll squeeze in somehow. I’m on the outside so if it gets too cramped I’m just going to roll off onto the floor. But, you might end up half on Hunk’s bed? I don’t know, we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

“I wish we had some cucumber slices,” Hunk whispers as Lance works on his forehead. Lance snorts.

“You’d eat them instead of putting them on your eyes.”

“Exactly!”

Keith smiles as Pidge huffs next to him. “This is taking forever. Are we gonna watch this movie or should I just go to sleep now?”

Lance finishes wiping the mix on Hunk with a flourish. “First off, I’m done. Second this is an art form and will always take time. And _third_ you totally wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyway.”

“Yeah, and Keith still needs his done,” Hunk adds as he looks at himself in Lance’s hand mirror. Keith’s heart shoots up his throat. Why did he think it was a good idea to come to some team bonding? He could be sitting by himself in his room without the fear of having Lance’s hands on him and freaking out. That was the much better option. 

“No, I’m good,” he protests, voice stuck too high. Lance looks relieved, which is annoying enough. Hunk stands and suddenly Keith is being lifted from the bed and placed on the floor in front of Lance. 

“Hunk, what the- don’t manhandle Keith!” Lance yells as Hunk settles in next to Pidge on the bed. He takes one of the bowls of snacks. 

“I think he’s just too embarrassed to say he wants one. You don’t have to be lone wolf Keith in the slumber party zone!” Hunk says through a mouthful of fake popcorn.

Keith turns back to face Lance, who looks two ticks away from bolting from the room. His mood dips down. It’s not that he wanted Lance to want to put this stuff on him, but did it have to look like he’d rather run out of the castle rather than touch Keith? 

Lance takes a deep breath, and suddenly his entire demeanor changes. He sits up straighter, game face on. “We’re gonna need something to tie back your bangs. Hunk! Could I borrow your hair band?”

Hunk’s face twists. “No? It’s super personal and also like, super covered in my sweat. I might have a rag or something...” Two ticks later a yellow cleaning rag flies into Lance’s hand.

“Thanks buddy. Alright, tie your hair back so it’s out of your face,” he says, offering the slightly oil stained fabric.

Keith takes the rag with a bit more force than necessary. “I know what to do,” he mutters. He had to keep his hair pushed back when he worked underneath his hover bike out in the desert. He pulls the rag under the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing his bangs back so he can tie it tightly at the top of his head. The room suddenly seems 50% brighter without the hair in his face. Lance stares at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“Oh my god, Keith!! You’re adorable!” Hunk cries from the bed. Pidge crawls over him to look. Her eyes light up beside Hunk. 

“Look at those bunny ears! Oh my god, Hunk, where’s your communicator?” She dives into the mess of sheets, searching furiously. 

Keith’s eyebrows knit together, confused. Lance has his fist pressed firmly to his lips, eyes shut tight like he’s praying. Keith grabs Lance’s little mirror to see what they’re freaking out about. The knot at the top of his head makes the rag sit straight out like two little ears. He looks absolutely, utterly, stupid.

“Turns this way again! I need a good shot!” Pidge says, waving her comm enthusiastically.

“How is Keith allowed to be this cute? Pidge, did you know? Look at his puppy dog eyes! _Oh!_ And now he’s pouting: this is gold!”

“I bet I could sell these and make some good money,” Pidge says as Keith subjects himself to the teasing. At least it’s positive teasing.

“You’re not allowed to sell pictures of Keith!” Lance protests loudly, Pidge just sticks her tongue out at him. “And you!” He points his finger towards Keith. “Close your eyes before I have a heart attack and let me put this stuff on.”

Keith rolls his eyes before shutting them.

And quickly discovers how big a mistake he’s just made.

Keith has made a fair share of mistakes in his short life. More than his fair share. Back at the Garrison Shiro once joked that he should organize them alphabetically instead of chronologically so it didn’t get too stale. But if Keith were to sort them by _magnitude_ of mistake, well...this might be top ten.

Lance’s fingers are cold against his jaw with the mixture, making him flinch. 

“Sorry,” Lance mutters. Keith steels himself for the next swipe of cold. Lance rests his fingers along his jawline, running his thumbs along his cheeks. He goes slow, probably so Keith doesn’t jump again. It makes every motion stand out against Keith’s skin, the prickle of nerves at each swipe of cold. A finger runs down the length of Keith’s nose, smooths down the sides to cover his skin there. A large swath of the mask goes across his forehead. Then Lance goes back to where he’s already applied the mixture, rubbing it into Keith’s skin in slow, matching circles on either side of his face. 

It comes as a surprise that it’s so relaxing, he honestly doesn’t want it to stop. Keith leans into Lance’s touch, unconsciously sighing as the mix starts to warm and feel more pleasant. Thumbs run along the line of his cheekbones, fingers resting under Keith’s jaw. The motion slows, slows until Lance’s thumbs just rest against the side of Keith’s face. Was it over? Keith hoped it would go for a bit long-

“Are you guys almost done?” Hunk asks and suddenly the spell is broken. 

Keith reluctantly opens his eyes as Lance’s hands jerk away. Lance leans back, having been so focused on Keith that he leaned in close. He must have been trying to see if he missed anywhere. 

“Done,” Lance says, darting his eyes away from Keith to wash his hands off.

“Yeah, done,” Keith adds and pushes down the deep cut of disappointment that runs through him that he can’t have that all the time. He climbs back up onto the bed to lean against the far wall with Hunk.

“Lance, I thought you said you were done?” Pidge says, more annoyed now. Lance is pouring more of the stuff onto his hands. He glares at her.

“I still have to do mine! How about you catch me up with the Lotor situation while I put this on?”

“Oh, yeah I didn’t tell you. He helped us with some search terms and parameters for the Finding Shiro program. It took some effort to get him to actually make _serious_ suggestions,” she says, voice filled with frustration.

“Yeah, he kept on suggesting to search for ‘bipedal alien sightings’ like that doesn’t cover half of the aliens we see?” Hunk adds, huffing in annoyance.

Pidge nods. “But he finally gave us something _concrete_ , so I had to send his message for him. And of course he tries to write it in code as well as have it encrypted. So it sounded a bit odd, but I couldn’t convince him to explain the message.”

Lance pauses with half of his face covered in his mask. “Well what did he say?”

“ _I have found solace with the pride of the universe_ , which like pride, pride of lions, I get that. _I hope you still have your transportation and the supplies that you need_ , which sounds pretty straight forward? I don’t know if that part’s coded but I have a gut feeling he snuck something in there. _There is safety and power in numbers, and I hope you will join me soon_. Which again, like. Makes sense? He’s just saying he wants them to come here so they can be safe from the Galra Empire. He just wrote everything super vague and it makes me anxious,” Hunk explains, hands fluttering nervously in his lap.

“He’s up to something,” Keith says decisively. Lance snorts.

“I gotta agree with you on this one, Mr. Be-Suspicious-of-Absolutely-Everything. Lotor’s been too chill. He’s gotta have something up his sleeve,” Lance says as he rubs in the mask around his forehead.

“But we couldn’t really prevent him from sending such a stupidly vague message if we couldn’t find anything _wrong_ with it. So I sent it out for him. Hopefully his generals don’t get back to him so we won’t have anything to worry about,” Pidge says. Lance nods, and wipes his hands off on his towel again.

“Alright, now I’m ready!” he announces, leaping towards the bed and nearly landing on Pidge. She squeals.

“Lance!! You nearly squished me what the quiznak?”

“You dodged, so you’re fine. Let’s get this party started! Hunk, snack me,” he says. Hunk reaches over Keith to grab the bowl of popcorn and throws some expertly into Lance’s mouth. Pidge presses play on her comm and dims the lights. Keith finds himself settling in closer to Hunk, who slings an arm over his shoulder.

“Aw yeah, snuggle time with Keith in the slumber party zone,” he says with a grin.

“Don’t you mean the S.P.Z.?” Pidge asks over her shoulder. Hunk laughs.

Keith doesn’t mind, its relaxing leaning up against Hunk. Lance looks back towards them and smiles, before turning towards the movie.

It’s some Altean drama that Allura gave to Hunk. The plot...makes absolutely no sense, even when Keith tries to keep up. About halfway through Lance mutes the film so he and Pidge can dub over the rest and make up their own story. Somehow the male love interest is now on a quest to find a toaster and the lead just wishes she were on vacation. She’s only marrying him for his fortune, which is from his time as a Weblum farmer. They give all the characters ridiculous voices and accents and soon can barely speak over their own laughter.

Keith finds himself laughing along, falling into Hunk who giggles uncontrollably. Pidge has tears in her eyes from laughter, face red. Lance keeps looking back at Hunk and Keith to gauge their reactions. Things haven’t felt so easy in such a long time; Keith tries to memorize the weightless joy.

It’s a varga or two later when the film finally ends. Keith’s eyes feel like lead, he’s nodding off against Hunk’s shoulder.

“It’s late, we should try to get some sleep,” Keith mutters, already calculating in his head how long he has until he has to wake up in the morning. Lance groans. 

“You can’t go to sleep now! This is your first sleepover with us; you can’t just wimp out halfway through!”

“I’m kinda tired too,” Hunk says, shifting away from Keith and down further into the blankets he has wrapped around himself. 

“What would we even do? Play something stupid like Truth or Dare? Never Have I Ever?” Pidge asks as she checks something on her comm. Keith can see it’s a conversation, and can sort of make Matt’s name out at the top of the screen along with some random symbols.  

Lance shoots up on the bed. “Heck yeah! We could do Never Have I Ever!”

Pidge drops the comm down onto her chest, rolling her head towards Lance. “And what? It’s not like any of you guys have _done_ anything, it would be super boring.”

“Well—” Keith starts without thinking, but immediately clamps his jaw shut when Pidge swivels her head over to look up at him. The gleam in her eye sends a shiver down his spine.

“Something you wanna share, Keith?” she asks.

“I mean, not that it’s any of our business, or that you have to share...” Hunk adds, but he looks at Keith just as enthusiastically. Lance is the only one not trying to push for details, lips tight.

Keith can feel heat crawling up the back of his neck as he looks down at the bed. He thought most of the teens at the Garrison had snuck off at one point or another to make stupid decisions in the dark, but apparently that wasn’t true. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“It really wasn’t anything,” he says, and hopes to leave it at that.

“But it was something?” Hunk urges him on. Keith resists for a moment, but then decides that maybe it’s a rite of passage. Sleepovers were meant for stupid gossip, right? He sighs. 

“You know how people would hook up in the bathrooms at night because that’s the one place you couldn’t get into trouble if you were caught past curfew?”

Hunk and Pidge give an immediate and annoyed “Yes.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“ _No_?!?” Lance yelps, loud enough that Keith shifts his attention over to him. He looks utterly scandalized, face flushed a deep red. Hunk nudges him. 

“Come on, it happened all the time. I’d get up in the middle of the night and there’d be weird noises coming from the showers and then it would be too awkward for me to go in there and _go_ so I’d go back to my room and just...wait a varga and hope they’d be gone.”

“I just went and then flushed the toilet a couple of times. Sometimes it would make the showers run cold,” Pidge adds. Hunk laughs. Lance still looks overwhelmed.

“I didn’t- I never...I always slept through the night!” he complains. 

“You never knew! I can’t believe this!” Pidge laughs, and then turns back to Keith, “Alright, spill! You were one of the guys that made using the bathroom at night hell; you gotta make up for it.”

“It was just once!” Keith argues, not wanting to be blamed for everything. Hunk leans forward excitedly. 

“Can you tell us who? Did we know them?”

“Start from the beginning, how did this even go down?” Pidge adds. 

Keith feels a bit bombarded. The whole thing wasn’t even that exciting. One day a guy in one of his classes approached him after the lesson and asked if he wanted to ‘hit the showers’ later. Luckily Keith had overheard some other students talking about the expression or the invitation would have flown right over his head. He didn’t know the guy well, but something in him thought, well, why not? 

It wasn’t even worth the trouble. The shower had run cold halfway through, the guy’s hands had just felt awkward and uncoordinated and Keith knew he wasn’t much better. Afterwards Keith just wondered what all the fuss was about; he had a better time just taking care of himself in the comfort of his own room.

“Uh, his name was Alexander...something. I can’t remember. And we just met the one time and that was it. Nothing amazing—”

“You’re telling me that you hooked up with _Alexander Koplar_?” Lance cuts across him, looking pained. Keith frowns.

“Yeah, and?” he asks defensively. 

“No big deal, you just casually hooked up with one of the most attractive dudes in the Garrison. I mean of course, you go after literal tens—”

“Wait, _that_ Alexander? Holy quiznak, Keith. I’m not even into dudes and I knew he was good looking,” Hunk says, looking at Keith with some weird expression of awe. 

Pidge shrugs. “I have no idea who that was.”

Keith thinks back, trying to remember the guy’s face more clearly. It hadn’t even been a factor when he said yes, how attractive he was. Keith supposed the guy was...good looking? Alright? He didn’t really notice things like that.

“Are we done talking about this?” Keith asks a bit petulantly. Hunk places a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Thank you for trusting us enough to share,” he says, super seriously.

Keith just glares at him. “Can I go to sleep now?”

Hunk pats his shoulder twice before flopping down onto his pillow. “Yeah I’m wiped too. Let’s turn in, guys.”

Keith sighs in relief, glad that he doesn’t have to make the (albeit short) trek back to his room. He shucks off his gloves and tucks them under his pillow. Usually he also tucks his Marmoran blade under his pillow as well…but decides against it with so many extra hands that might accidentally come in contact with it. Rolling off the bed, he shrugs out of his jacket and lays it on the floor. He unbuckles his belt and pouches, and then gets to work on his pants. Hands suddenly grip his wrists as he works on the zipper. Keith whips his head up to stare at Lance, who looks overly offended.

“What are you doing?!” Lance hisses at him. 

Keith jerks his hands out of Lance’s hold, glaring at him. “Getting ready for bed! I don’t sleep in my jeans.”

“You can’t just—”

“Sleep in my boxers? I do it all the time! What is your problem?” Seriously Keith just wants to get to sleep and forget about all of the weird emotional ups and downs the average sleepover can bring. Lance looks at him, panicked. 

“Y-you can’t because uh, because- Pidge!”

Pidge turns to look at them, fluffing up her pillow. “Yeah?”

“Pidge is here! You can’t go around in just your underwear—”

“Boxers—”

“She’s a girl and that’s super inappropriate—”

Pidge snorts. “I don’t really care? Do you guys not know what trans-girl means because it’s not like I haven’t—”

Lance twists to place a finger against her lips, shushing her. “Completely inappropriate, one hundred percent. So sorry buddy, you gotta sleep in the jeans.”

“Fucking fine, I don’t care. Just let me sleep,” Keith mutters, he’s too tired to figure out Lance’s actual hang up.  He pulls back the covers and crawls closer to Hunk. It’s already warm under the sheets, and with everyone’s body heat it’ll be sweltering. He’s just going to have to deal with it. 

Lance settles in next to him, Pidge slipping in last. 

“G’night everybody,” Hunk mutters into his pillow. 

Keith sighs, knowing that this is going to be a bad night of sleep. He rolls over and faces towards Lance, who rests on his back, eye mask pushed up into his hair. For a brief moment Keith wants to ask what his deal is, why he’s been acting weird and jumpy all night. If he needs to get something off his chest he should just _do it_ already.

Lance turns his head to look at him, noticing the attention. He smiles, the grin just visible in the darkness.

“Night,” he whispers, quiet and warm. He looks content, two ticks away from falling asleep. 

That’s all it takes to make Keith’s heart ache. He has an inexplicable urge to push into Lance’s space and curl up next to him. He wants some of that sleep softness to rub off on him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fall asleep with his heart pounding this quickly. Any irritation he had fades away into the dark.

“Goodnight,” he whispers back. 

***

A few days later they have a hit: Lotor’s suggestions to refine the search for Shiro finally yields results.

Keith suits up and races towards the zip line for his Lion, mind clear and focused. This could be it, he could finally be helping Shiro like he should have months ago. Red roars as they shoot out from the castle, quickly followed by the other Lions. 

“Slow _down_ Keith, this is reconnaissance mission first. All we know is that this ship has done scientific experiments in the past, not that Shiro is guaranteed to be on there!” Pidge yells across the comms. Keith taps on the breaks just a bit. 

“But it could be him, I’ve got a good feeling,” he says. And he does, he has to. This has to be right for Shiro’s sake.

“So even better reason not to go in guns blazing, right? We don’t want Shiro to get injured if he’s on there. Let’s take this slow, alright?” Lance says, image popping up in Keith’s viewport next to Pidge. Keith sighs. 

“I’ll use my cloaking to get in close and see if there are any obvious traps, Allura, you can use the sonar on the Blue Lion to make a scan of the ship. That should give us a good idea of what we’re up against,” Pidge continues. Allura pops up on screen. 

“Sounds perfect, I’ll follow you in!” the pair race off towards the lone Galra battleship in the sector.

Keith fights back his nerves, hands itching to punch forward and meet them there. He wants to get to the ship, break through its defenses and its guards and take Shiro back. 

“How crazy do you think the security will be around Shiro?” Hunk asks, already planning for the worst. 

“We’re not even sure this is the right ship yet, don’t stress too much buddy,” Lance replies. Hunk takes a few deep breaths. 

“Guys? We have a bit of a problem,” Pidge’s voice comes over the comms once more. Keith punches the acceleration on Red instantly, zooming towards them. 

“Hey, wait, Keith!” Lance calls from behind him. Keith doesn’t wait to see if he and Hunk follow. He soon catches up to Allura and Pidge hidden among an asteroid field close to the patrolling battleship. 

“I didn’t say you guys had to come _here_ ,” Pidge says, voice annoyed. 

“What’s the issue?” Keith asks, his voice coming out harsher than he meant for it to. Pidge sighs. 

“This is some updated tech they’re using on the outer hull. Allura said that Blue’s sensors can’t breach through the outside. We have no idea what’s in there.”

“Aww, come on, that’s not cool. Why can the Galra make something that Blue can’t see through?” Lance moans over the headsets. Keith rolls his eyes.

“There must be something important in there if they made it impossible to scan. We should definitely take a closer look.”

“I dunno, man. They could be hiding like, half the Galra army in there for all we know. I think we should figure out another way to get some info on this thing,” Hunk adds. 

“At least let’s put a tracker on the ship or something like that, I don’t think we should lose track of it,” Lance suggests. Keith remembers the months he spent tracking different supply ships across the galaxy, how long it took to figure out a pattern. He sighs in frustration.

“That is a bit more reasonable, Pidge can approach undetected and do so,” Allura says over the comms. 

“Sounds like a plan, we’ll keep an eye out for you, ok?” Lance tells Pidge. She nods. 

Her Lion flies out from the asteroid belt, and quickly phases out of sight. Only the sensors on the Red Lion allow Keith to track her movements forward, designed so that if Pidge ever went down during a battle and the cloaking didn’t deactivate her teammates could still find her. 

She approaches from underneath, looking for a good spot to place the tracker where the patrols won’t easily find it. It’s going smoothly, she shoots out a tracker the size of a baseball onto the underbelly of the ship. 

And then everything goes wrong.

The ion cannon of the ship activates, warming up a blast. Several Galra warships burst out of hyperspace, surrounding the lone ship. Pidge shrieks over the comms. 

“Holy quiznak!”

“We’re heading to you! Team, give Pidge some cover!” Lance yells. 

Drone ships pour out of the battleships in droves, heading directly towards Pidge. They make no distinction between the Green Lion and the battleship, firing on both. Small explosions rock the side of the Galra ship.

Piloting amid the asteroid belt is nothing compared to flying through swarms of drone cruisers. Keith shoots swaths of fire across the hoard, taking out ships left and right. He tries to draw fire away from Pidge and the battleship. 

“Over here!” he yells, even though the enemy can’t hear him. He makes himself enough of a target that he has a good following. Quickly flipping his Lion around to face the oncoming cruisers, he melts them as they try to blast through him.

The other Lions have successfully taken out enough of the drones to get Pidge away from the direct line of fire. But the ships keep coming, and another large battleship slams through hyperspace to surround them. 

“Everyone, we need to form Voltron!” Lance says over the comms. Keith maneuvers around a cluster of ships to reach the rest of his team, finding his spot in the formation as they come together to become one. There’s the usual jolt as he feels a connection to the rest of the team. Lance maneuvers them backwards, then yells, “Form blaster!”

“No! Shiro might still be on that ship, we can’t risk hitting it!” Keith yells back. Lance grunts in acknowledgement. 

“Alright, form sword and shield instead! Let’s take out the big guns and then focus on the drones.”

“Got it!” Pidge says as Keith slams his bayard into its slot, twisting to activate his Lion’s power. The sword materializes between his and Pidge’s ship, shield forming soon after. They tear a gash down the side of one of the battleships, explosions erupting in their wake. 

“Legs, dodge!” Lance calls out. Hunk and Allura shout an affirmative, jets arching them out of the way of an ion blast. They dodge out of the way, the cannon following their path with a beam of destruction. 

“Wait, it’s going to hit—” Hunk calls out, but it’s too late to move. The ion laser slices through the front of the original battleship that they’d come to investigate.

“No!! We have to get in there _now_. We need to see if there’s anyone on there!” Keith yells, urging the team forward with his thoughts. Voltron continues to pull away. 

“That ship is going to explode with a hit like that, we won’t make it in time,” Pidge argues, then curses under her breath as she moves the shield to block a hailstorm of drone ships. Keith deactivates the sword. 

“It’s worth the chance, he might be in there. Let me go and see!” he jerks his controls, and for fights against the bonds holding Voltron together in one body. He can feel the connection between them falter, without it the Lions should topple apart like they did when they first were learning to form Voltron.

“Oh no you don’t!” Lance says over the comms, “You’re not going in there just to be blown up.”

There’s a sense of resistance, like something is holding Keith and the team together more tightly. Keith grits his teeth and pushes even harder. 

“Let me go! I can still save him!”

Whatever the force is is slipping, Pidge and Hunk both yell at Keith to stop as Allura and Hunk dodge enemy fire.

“Not gonna...let you,” he can hear Lance say, sounding strained in the heat of the battle. 

“Wait, Lance! You need to stop!” Allura yells, alarmed. 

Suddenly Voltron’s left arm drops its shield to twist and grip onto the right arm, holding Keith physically in place.

“Abort mission,” Lance pants over the comms, “Back to the castle.”

The boosters on Voltron’s back and legs activate, and they take off at a breakneck pace from the battle. In the distance there’s an explosion at the center of the battlefield, the ship they came for destroyed.

Anger and grief swell up quickly in Keith’s throat. How could they give up this chance? That might be Shiro back there, being torn apart in the blast. The Red Lion is finally released once they reach the castle, the team breaking apart to fly into their individual hangers. Keith has a death grip on the controls as he lands. 

“Team! I have a visual on the battle. There’s something really odd about the debris from the ship we were going to track. I think the only thing working on the entire thing was its cannon, there doesn’t appear to be any organic debris, or even drone ships or drones. I think it was an empty shell left to lure us in for an ambush. And it worked too!” Coran exclaims over their comms.

Relief surges through Keith’s system. “So there wasn’t any living thing on there?” he asks. Coran’s image pops into his view screen. 

“Absolutely certain of it! I don’t think there were even any life support systems built in. They must have spent a heck of a lot on the material for the hull, and then didn’t put anything else since it was only meant for a distraction. This is troubling news that the Galra are using this tactic,” he says, stroking his mustache. Keith nods faintly, still overwhelmed knowing that they didn’t lose their one chance. He disconnects from Coran without a word and makes his way out of his Lion towards the main hanger bay. Before he can make it, Allura rushes past him from the direction of the Blue Lion. 

“Where are you going?” he calls after her.

She doesn’t stop, simply calls out behind her. “Lance!” in such a panicked tone that Keith’s heart nearly stops right then and there. He races after her.

The Black Lion has its jaw open, allowing easy access to the cockpit. Lance is curled up against its teeth; he didn’t make it past the gang plank to the ground. It takes a few ticks for Keith to catch up to Allura, who already is supporting Lance against her shoulder. He skids to a stop in front of them.

“-was incredibly foolish and life threatening. Couldn’t you feel how much quintessence was being drained from you? If you had continued for much longer—”

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks, eyes scanning over Lance to search for damage. He’s incredibly pale, almost sickly in appearance. Lance fights to keep his eyes open, even as Allura lifts him with an arm around his chest. It looks like he can’t support his own weight.

“’Mmm fine,” Lance mutters, head falling onto Allura’s shoulder. 

“You are most certainly not,” she snaps, eyebrows furrowed in concern. She looks over to Keith. “To extend his will over Voltron and keep us from falling apart he used up a great deal of his own quintessence, without any training or caution to its use. He needs a healing pod to regain his energy,” she says. The clipped edge to her voice sets Keith’s pulse pounding. Keith immediately reaches out to support Lance on his other side, the three of them moving awkwardly as one. 

Hunk and Pidge meet them halfway out of the hangar, concern clouding their faces as they see Lance. Hunk bounds towards them.

“Here, I got him,” Hunk says, taking Lance from their arms and cradling him against his chest. “Healing pod, right?”

Allura nods tersely, looking over Lance’s form. Keith’s stomach lurches. 

“I’ll go too,” he says, following closely behind Hunk. He fills Hunk in on the details as they quickly make their way down the hall.

“Was...what’s happ’n,” Keith hears Lance mutter. Hunk looks down towards Lance, a small smile at the edge of his lips. 

“There you are, buddy. We’re taking you to a pod, you need some rest.”

“S’nds-sounds good,” he says. After a short pause he continues. “Where’s Keith?”

“Behind us,” Hunk says reassuringly.

“Here,” Keith croaks out. 

Lance shifts in Hunk’s arms, pulling himself up so he can see over Hunk’s shoulder. His face is still too pale, skin sallow. He looks two ticks from passing out.

“You alright?” he asks, voice still too quiet. He fights to keep his eyes trained on Keith.

Guilt spears through him again. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Lance drops his head down onto Hunk’s armor, rubbing his face into it roughly. He mutters unintelligibly into Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk fidgets and walks a bit slower, uncertain if something’s up. 

“You ok back there?” Hunk asks, voice growing worried.

There’s a groan as Lance picks his face back up, this time glaring at Keith. “No, not good. This idiot here tried to _blow himself up again_ ,” he yells, suddenly attempting to scramble over the back of Hunk. Keith jerks forward to try to catch him as Hunk grabs onto him tighter to keep him in place. 

“Dude, calm down it’s fine—” Hunk starts.

“It’s not! Keith you gotta stop doing this! You keep throwing yourself at stuff without caring if you’re going to make it out. You don’t even _think_ \- What’s the point in saving one team member if we just lose another?” His breath is labored; he’s still not doing well. 

Keith holds his hands up. “You need to calm down, just let us get you to—”

“No, you shut up. You, you-ugh! Don’t you get it? The _team_ cares about you,” Lance’s gaze crumples in a single moment, falling from anger to aching, “I _care about you_. I don’t even know how to-how to…” his voice catches and Lance pauses to collect himself. When he looks up again his expression has flicked back to fury. “So if you don’t stick around for yourself, how about you stick around for us, huh?”

There was something wrong with that emphasis; there was something more Lance meant to say. Keith’s brain feels frozen in guilt and shock and he’s not sure how he’s still getting one foot in front of the other. Hunk turns around, walking backwards to shoot Keith a look. 

_Are you hearing what I’m hearing?_

Keith gestures frantically. 

_I have no idea what’s going on!_

“Hey! Flip back around I’m not done yelling at him!” Lance protests, banging a weak fist against Hunks armor. 

“Nope, yelling time is over. Since I’m carrying you I make the rules,” Hunk says, continuing to walk backwards. “But Lance is right. We’d be just as worried if it was you that was missing instead of Shiro. Or if you got hurt. I don’t want anything to happen to any of you guys. And, like, I know you feel the same way about all of us. So next time you’re trying to fly into an exploding ship, or try to face off against Zarkon by yourself, or whatever else; try to see it from our perspective, alright?”

All Keith can do is nod mutely. He’s still not used to everyone caring about him past being a part of Voltron. The message never fully sinks in.

“What he said!” Lance adds a bit drunkenly. Hunk rolls his eyes and continues to walk backwards with Keith guiding him until Lance falls silent once more. When Hunk flips to face forward Keith can see Lance passed out against Hunk’s shoulder. His skin has broken out in a sweat; eyebrows pulled tight together even in sleep.

After detaching the bulky chest plate and guards off it doesn’t take much to get him into the pod. The glass seals over Lance and a rush of cold fogs up the inside. Hunk and Keith stare as they catch their breath. 

“He’s gonna be alright,” Keith says decisively, though he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Hunk more.

“Yeah, totally definitely fine. I think I might stick around for when the pod lets us know how long he’ll be in there for. Just so we can keep an eye out for him,” Hunk says, staring at the display on the glass. Keith sighs in relief. He wants to head back to his room and bury his head under his pillow. There are far too many thoughts racing around in his mind ( _still no Shiro, the ship exploding, Lance yelling at him to stop in Red, Lance saying he cares, Hunk saying the team cares_ ) he just wants to not _think_ for a little while.

Hunk fiddles nervously next to Keith. “Also uh...real quick. Did things get a little weird back there or was it just me? I mean, I thought I got a certain vibe from Lance but maybe I was imagining it?”

Keith tries to unstick his brain from the stress filled crater it’s fallen into. Dragging a hand through his hair, Keith lets out a shaky sigh.

“I-I don’t know? How he said it—” _I care about you, I care about you_ “He was just out of it, I guess.”

Hunk shrugs, still looking over at Lance. “Maybe? He sounded pretty clear in the middle. I don’t know. It’s just weird, right?” He looks over to Keith. “I feel like he would _totally_ tell me if he had a crush on you. I guess it doesn’t matter though, it’s not like you like him or anything—”

Whatever look crosses Keith’s face halts Hunk in his tracks. Panic fills Keith’s veins as Hunk’s eyes light up.

“No way—”

“What. What? I didn’t even say anything.”

Hunk snorts. “You didn’t have to! Why haven’t I heard about this? Is this something new? Why haven’t you told Lance?” he asks excitedly, eyes growing large.

Arms crossing over his chest, Keith shrinks back. He doesn’t want this on his plate along with everything else. “There’s nothing to _hear_ about. And...and didn’t you just say Lance would have told you if there was anything?”

“Well I mean, I did, but maybe—”

Keith cuts him off. “No maybes. He hasn’t said anything and that’s fine. That’s…” he trails off, fingers digging into the armor on his forearms. “It’s fine. So please just forget about it. And don’t mention anything to him when he wakes up, alright?” Hunk hesitates before he nods.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Thanks for keeping an eye on him,” Keith says and heads out the door before Hunk can push any further. He’s had enough for one day.


	8. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second huge chapter. Warnings for an injury and blood.

_Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself_  
_What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?_

Here’s a fun fact: Lance hates the cold. He was always so used to warmer climates, so being in the middle of space came as a shock to his system. It’s _always_ chilly. Lance would kill for a good heating system in his room. 

It’s even worse to wake up to the frigid temperatures of the healing pods, even if he’s not fully conscious yet. He blinks as the glass disappears, leaning against the side of the pod to get his bearings. What happened again? He remembers it in chunks, flashes of color and an exhaustion so heavy that it dragged at his very core.

Lance rubs his forehead, trying to forget the sensation of keeping Voltron together against its Paladins’ wills. It felt like he was being pulled apart, physically and mentally, held together only by a thread. His thought his head was splitting open by the time they made it back to the castle. Allura...? Allura might have picked him up. And then Hunk carrying him. He yelled at Keith somewhere in there, too. Maybe?

Whatever happened, he’s not doing anyone any favors by hanging out in the pod. He takes a few baby steps out to make sure he’s got his space legs underneath him. It takes a second to register a weird rumble of noise to the side of the pod. Lance tilts his head down, one hand resting on the pod in case he topples over.

Hunk has his back up against the thing, gently snoring into his chest. Lance smiles, wonders how long he’s been there. Sitting down sounds like a great idea now anyway? He slides himself down to the floor next to Hunk, who stirs.

“Wakey wakey, space eggs and bakey,” Lance mutters, voice rusty from disuse. He clears his throat with a cough. Hunk’s eyes light up and Lance is suddenly dragged into a full body hug.

“You’re alright! Dude, I was so worried, the pod said you didn’t need a lot of time in there but like, what if it was malfunctioning or couldn’t fix things and you came out all weird or something like that. But you look fine, do you feel fine? Should we put you back in or like, do you just need your bed or-?”

Lance smiles and pats Hunk’s face to comfort him, “Nah I’m good. A bit tired, but good. How long have I been out?”

Hunk fishes around in his pocket for his comm. The screen lights up and he frowns. “Two vargas? Two and a half?”

“Isn’t your butt killing you sitting on the floor like that?” Lance asks. Hunk shakes his head. 

“No, don’t worry. I went and got changed from my armor, let everyone know how long you’d be in the pod and then I’ve been here for like. A varga, tops,” he shifts Lance out of his lap to stretch, something popping in his back.

“Still, you didn’t have to wait for me,” Lance says, though he totally appreciates it. It’s always a bit disorienting coming out of the pod, it’s nice to have someone waiting for you.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. And uh...to ask you something?” he says haltingly. Lance tilts his head as Hunk nearly vibrates with excitement.

“Um, I feel like I’m gonna regret whatever it is you’re asking. What’s up?”

Pushing off of the pod, Hunk rearranges his limbs so he sits cross legged in front of Lance, looking like he’s about to dish out the story of the century.

“Ok, so first off, do you remember anything after we got back to the castle?”

Lance shrugs. “I think? Allura helped me out of my Lion, and then you carried me to the pod bay. And I think Keith was following you? I yelled at him. I hope I gave it to him good, because holy cheese, he nearly gave me a heart attack trying to break away from Voltron.”

Hunk nods, “Yeah you did yell, and nearly knocked yourself out trying to get out of my arms. But, when you were yelling at Keith, you said something—”

It hits Lance like a ton of bricks. He said _something bad_ , what was it? Did he tell Keith that he liked him? No, no it wasn’t something so straightforward. Right. Right? He sits rigidly against the hearing pod, hoping for good news.

“Uh-huh?” he squeaks out. Hunk leans forward.

“Do you remember?” Lance gives somewhere between a nod and a shrug and Hunk, the beautiful man he is, understands. “Alright, so I mean...it seemed sort of weird? And I wanted to ask you if there’s like...anything going on between you and Keith.”

“What?! No, no absolutely not, nothing going on there. You actually thought-? No!” Lance’s voice sounds frantic even to his own ears. A slow, wide grin spreads across Hunk’s face.

“I can’t believe this, oh my gosh, this is _great_! I’m not saying that I’m gonna live vicariously through you, but I barely get to see Shay so this is sort of like reading a good romance novel—”

“I-I didn’t say anything! There’s nothing to say! I just meant that the team doesn’t want Keith to get hurt, is that so weird?” Lance insists, because he can see it in Hunk’s eyes that he’s going to meddle. Even if he thinks it’s in Lance’s best interest, it’s _not_. “Please don’t twist this into something it’s not, Hunk.”

His friend’s brow furrows. “Ok, but here’s the thing. Keith said—”

“Uh buh buh buh, I don’t want to hear it. Just let it be, ok?”

“No seriously, I asked Keith if—”

“Nope, not listening! Thanks for waiting for me, I’m gonna go rest for a bit, capiche?”

Scrambling to his feet, Lance makes a hasty retreat. Hunk groans on the floor behind him.

“I can’t _believe_ you two.”

***

One good night’s sleep later, Lance feels back to his old self. Hunk makes his favorite breakfast for the team and Lance is two ticks from proposing. Pidge gives him quick hug too, glad that he’s alright.

“You have to be more careful!” she says as she lets go, concerned anger lighting up her eyes. Lance rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, didn’t mean to freak everyone out, sorry about that. Did I miss anything during my nap?”

Pidge drags him over to the table to get him to sit. “Actually, you did. Lotor’s message got a response.”

Lance perks up, not liking the sound of things. “Really what did it—” he cuts off as Hunk pushes a plate in front of him, giving him a stern look.

“You eat and I’ll explain,” Pidge says. She stays silent until Lance rolls his eyes and picks up his spork. “Oddly enough, this one is a lot more straightforward? Here, let me read it to you.” She lights up her comm and scrunches her nose. “ _What remains of our team is fine, and we would like to keep it that way. Our ship and the materials it carried have been disposed of along the way. It’s much easier to travel without such easily identifiable transportation. Perhaps if you search very hard you’ll find it someday. We shall make it out here on our own, without your help. Vrepit sa._ And then it’s signed A.E.Z.”

Lance snorts into his bowl. “Wow, passive aggressive much? I guess Lotor’s generals weren’t such big fans of him after all.”

“Right? That’s what I thought too. And you should have seen Lotor’s face when he read it. He looked like he was ready to reach through the comm and strangle someone. I mean, he pretended that he wasn’t upset afterwards, but it was pretty obvious,” Pidge says.

“Well, sucks to be Lotor, maybe he should’ve been nicer to them,” Lance says and then continues to finish off his breakfast.

Allura sits him down after the meal and it feels like she’s reading him the riot act. “The bond that we all have to Voltron and the Lions is something complex and powerful, but it can be dangerous. Please be more careful with how much of yourself you give to that bond,” she says.

“No, I hear you; I definitely don’t want to do that again. But it kept Keith from running off and blowing himself up so at least it was worth it,” Lance says, waving his hand in acknowledgement. Allura frowns, a wrinkle forming between her brows. 

“You don’t understand. If you tried to keep Voltron from separating for longer than you did...I don’t know if we would have been able to resuscitate you. All of your limited quintessence would have been drained.”

_It’d be worth it_ he thinks immediately. He doesn’t want anything to happen to his friends, he wants to keep them safe, and as the leader of the team their safety falls on his shoulders.

But he doesn’t want to keep arguing with Allura, and he definitely doesn’t want her to continue to worry. Instead he just nods. “I gotcha princess, don’t sweat it.”

***

“Lance come on, this is ridiculous- ACK!” Pidge yells as she’s swept off her feet by the training gladiator. She lands on her back, impact harder with the lack of her armor. Lance bends down to help her up, wincing as the motion tugs at one bruise or another on his back.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Allura calls out from across the training deck. She also isn’t wearing her Paladin armor, instead is dressed in her full on princess gear. Her skirts swirl wildly as she twists around her gladiator, incredibly graceful as she takes it down with her staff. She pauses as the gladiator powers down, “The chances that we’ll be ambushed while we’re without our weapons or armor are quite high now that Voltron is further into the public eye. We must be able to defend ourselves without relying on our armor or our bayards.”

Lance smiles at her, glad someone has his back here.

“Says the girl who has superhuman strength and has been training with these weapons since she was in diapers,” Pidge mutters loudly. Hunk snorts in the middle of his attack on the gladiator he and Lance are sharing, causing him to be knocked out as well.

Lance leans down to grab the staff from Hunk. “Better luck next time, buddy.”

Gripping the weapon like Allura showed them, Lance squares up for the droid. They circle each other for a few steps before the gladiator lashes out with an inhuman spin. Lance exhales and dodges, just barely being grazed by his enemy’s staff. Jeez, he really needs to practice his close range combat, it was already getting nerve wracking and he’s only been in the ring for five ticks.

He dodges again, careful not to over adjust and lose his balance. Seeing a chance, he whirls his staff around to gain momentum and lands a solid hit to the small of the gladiator’s back, making it stumble. Lance tries to drop down to get a swing at the thing’s legs as well, but the gladiator regains its balance too quickly. With a solid smack, Lance is thrown a few feet away, landing hard on the training room floor.

“Oof, that’s gonna leave a bruise,” Pidge says, waving off the drone so it doesn’t keep going after Lance. He lets out a huff of air that sounds far more pained than he meant it to be.

“Yeah, yup, ha. Gotta walk that one off for a tick,” he says, getting to his feet. He kneads his hand into his side to work at the sore muscles, wincing.

The whoosh of the training room doors catches Lance’s attention. Keith stands at the threshold, surprise lighting up in his eyes as he sees the four of them.

“Oh, I didn’t know the deck was being used,” he says, pausing at the door. Pidge waves him in.

“Come on, you can join us in getting our asses kicked. Lance has the gladiators set too high and Allura is just egging him on,” she says. She glares at Lance, who shrugs and lifts his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face. He uses the time to hide his frustration with Keith looking so _hesitant_ to join them.

There’s something up with Keith, he’s been looking at Lance funny, and has been...sorta avoiding him? Lance wracks his brains to figure out what could’ve caused it. He thought the two of them were at the point where Keith could be honest with him about stuff that’s bothering him but _apparently not_.

Lance decides to ignore the hesitation for now, instead turning to look at Pidge as Keith makes his way into the room. “It doesn’t hurt to practice the higher levels without our armor, right? You heard Allura, maybe some Galra forces will try to kick our butts when we’re chilling in our civvies on some planet.”

Hunk drops to the floor to spread out. He groans. “It actually does hurt. A lot. I have bruises on my bruises.”

Lance quite literally feels his pain, the hit from earlier on his side just one of many spots radiating deep aches. Lance realizes that they’re all ready for a well-deserved break.

“Gladiator, begin phase level one,” he says, turning back to his opponent.

The robot shifts to adjust its balance into a beginner’s stance. Lance swings his staff to the thing’s left, and then quickly pulls back and jabs towards the direction it dodges. The gladiator topples over, and Lance does a halfhearted victory dance.

“Look, we won! And _now_ we’re done,” he says. Pidge laughs and falls to the floor beside Hunk. He gives a thumbs up, arm straight in the air before it flops back down with a thud.

“I think I’ll take a nap here,” he says, pulling his hair band down over his eyes. Keith walks up next to Lance to survey the gladiator.

“So I guess I’ll have the deck to myself after all,” Keith says. He sounds amused, though, so Lance doesn’t feel too bad in leaving him out this time. Allura walks over to join them, and Lance can see she’s barely broken a sweat.

“I would be happy to continue to train with you, Keith. Perhaps the two of us could spar as well,” she offers. Lance’s insides curl together in fear at the idea of having to face Allura one on one but Keith just grins back at her, ready for the challenge. Out of all of them, Keith was probably the one who could actually take her on. A warmth crawls into his chest as he sees Keith properly _excited_ about something.

Lance reaches out to give him a pat on the shoulder, “We’ll leave you in peace to beat the snot out of these guys, and each other,” he says with a grin. Keith stills under his hand, looking away. Lance frowns. _This_ again! He’s done ignoring Keith’s odd behavior. “Did I say something to upset you? You know, um, earlier?”

Head whipping around, Keith turns to look at him with shock clear across his face. Out of the corner of his eye Lance sees Hunk’s head pick up excitedly.

“Uh, what do you mean?” Keith asks, his voice tight. 

Lance takes his hand away to turn and get a better look at Keith better. “It’s hazy, but I remember that I was yelling at you when we got back from the mission and I don’t think I said anything too mean? But if I did, I...wanted to apologize.”

Keith blinks at him, “Oh, ok. I uh, appreciate it.” He relaxes a bit, but Lance can tell he’s still not one hundred percent happy. Keith still looks like he’s on edge about _something_ , and since Lance doesn’t know what that something _is_ he decides to do the next best thing.

“Alright, I must have hurt your feelings. Bring it in, I’ll make you feel better,” he says, arms opening wide in invitation. Keith looks at him, bewildered. 

“No, I mean, you didn’t hurt my feelings it’s fine—”

“Too late, already decided. Come here,” Lance insists. He pulls a reluctant Keith into his arms, squeezing him comically tight. After a tick Keith’s arms come up to return the hug.

And hey, guess what.

Keith? Turns out he’s super good at hugs.

There are hugs where the other person holds onto you just right, they fit perfectly into your arms and they rest their head against the side of yours and you just…melt. If Lance wasn’t already in love with Keith then he probably would have fallen with this hug alone.

And so maybe it goes on for a bit too long. But Keith doesn’t say anything so Lance rides the hug wave for as long as he can. Lance resists the urge to nuzzle closer towards Keith, and counts himself down to when he has to let go. He gives a small pat on Keith’s back, and then pulls away.

There’s a slight smile across Keith’s lips, eyes dancing in the fluorescents of the room. Lance’s heart clenches and man, does he have it _bad_ , how is he supposed to deal with thi-

“I can’t _believe_ this!” Hunk says loudly, and Lance nearly jumps out of his skin. He and Keith twist to look down. How did Lance forget that Hunk and Pidge were both there?? And Allura! And oh no. The look on Pidge’s face, grinning up at Lance like she’s the cat that got the canary. Hunk must have told her about what Lance had said, the super embarrassing stuff that he was absolutely not supposed to share. Allura looks like she’s just solved an incredibly complex puzzle, eyes lighting up and smiling gleefully.

Lance frantically mimes to Hunk over Keith’s shoulder. _Zip your lips_. 

Pidge opens her mouth and Lance panics. “Hey Keith, you’re looking a little flushed. Are you feeling alright?” 

_I’m gonna slit your throat_ , Lance gestures frantically. 

“What? No, no I’m good. I’m fine, um,” Keith says as he turns around. Lance drops his hands, whistling as he pretends like he wasn’t just sending death threats behind Keith’s back. Allura is sighing wistfully, while Hunk and Pidge are snickering and Lance is maybe going to explode right there on the training deck.

“Hey, good chat, good spar, how about we hit the showers because who wants us all to be standing around all sweaty and gross, right?”

“You don’t want to look gross in front of Keith, I get it,” Hunk says, and boy howdy Lance’s face feels like it’s on fire.

“Up up up, the two of you,” Lance growls and hauls Hunk up to his feet with some effort. He physically pushes Pidge, her feet scrapping along the floor as they go.

“Have fun training, you guys!” she calls over her shoulder. Lance wishes desperately that he could have dragged Allura out of there as well, but he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to. The three of them dump out into the hall, Hunk and Pidge still giggling.

The pounding in Lance’s ears slowly dies down as he fast walks towards the showers, fuming at his _friends’_ antics. He shoots them a glare over his shoulder.

“That was adorable,” Hunk sighs, holding his face in his hands. 

“I don’t know how I missed it before you told me? It was so obvious!” Pidge adds, massaging a sore spot on her arm. Lance whips around to face them. 

“Guys, seriously, I can’t believe you. Didn’t I tell you to leave it alone?!” he says, voice climbing.

Hunk pauses and they all stop in front of the entrance to the showers. “Well, yeah you did, but it’s not like I did anything—”

“You made a big deal out of a friendly hug and now Keith is probably wondering what the heck that was all about. And what if he realizes—”

“Realizes _what_? Got something to share?” Pidge asks, one eyebrow shooting up over her glasses. Lance barely hears her. 

“And like, it’ll be the same thing like with Allura, and he’ll be uncomfortable and not want to spend time with me or maybe the team and then what if he goes back to the Blades of Marmora because of it and—”

“Woah wait wait, what?” Pidge asks, the grin dropping off her face in an instant.

“What thing with Allura?” Hunk adds. 

Lance pulls in on himself, arms crossing his chest. There’s a lump rising in his throat and he just feels...useless. He can’t do anything with his feelings for Keith, but he also isn’t doing a good enough job hiding them from him. He still hasn’t been able to find Shiro, or negotiate well in the ambassador meetings, or keep the team together if his teammates are willing to jump ship and maybe blow themselves up. He takes a deep breath to try to steady himself.

“I, I uh- when Allura turned me down. She told me that she was uncomfortable around me, because of all the flirting. And she. She um. She felt like she couldn’t reach out and be herself around me because of how I might interpret it? And I didn’t mean to make her feel like that, and I felt like shit for making her feel like that so. So I’m trying not to do that. Again,” he says, voice getting a bit warbly at the end. The shocked looks on both Hunk and Pidge’s face don’t make him feel better. He coughs to clear his throat, hoping that he can shove down whatever emotion is trying to pour out of him.

“Oh, dude, I didn’t know that’s what happened,” Hunk says. He reaches a hand out for Lance’s shoulder and Lance flinches, just a bit. “Aw no, come here.”

Lance wipes hastily at his eyes, trying to fight back the rising pressure. His voice sounds too forced in his ears. “Nope! Nope nope I’m fine.” He pushes Hunks’s arms away. “I’m gonna got the showers first, alright? See you at dinner.”

“No, wait Lance, we didn’t mean to—” Pidge starts but Lance is already _gone_.

He makes a hasty retreat into the group showers, picking the stall at the very end and farthest from the door. Lance drops down on the bench inside and holds his head in his hands, trying to breathe normal. He needs to get himself under control, and not just _cry_ in front of people and couldn’t he take care of all of this himself? He’s in the leader for the team; he should have his act together. He gets a handle on himself after he hears two other streams of water start, head clearing as he takes slow, deep breaths.

He doesn’t want to mess everything up. With his friends, with Voltron, or with Keith. And well…if Keith finds out than hopefully he’ll let him down easy like Allura did. No hard feelings, no awkward silences, no rift between him and the team. Lance sighs as he finally gets up to start his own shower, and stays long after his teammates leave.

***

Lance wakes in the morning to an alarm blaring. It’s muscle memory at this point to suit up in his Paladin armor and race towards the bridge. He’s the fourth one there, after Allura, Coran and Pidge. The rest of the crew comes running in soon after. Pidge shoots him a concerned look from across the room and he shoots her a smile. He’s gotten all his funk out from yesterday and he’s ready to go.

“What’s up?” he asks as Allura pulls up the navigation with a few swipes of her hands. She zooms in on a certain point, a star system with a few planets, focusing on one on the outer edge. 

“We have another potential hit for Shiro,” Pidge says, holding her comm as she goes over her data. Matt walks behind her and reads it over himself, eyes scanning quickly over the Galra transmissions.

“Did you add a few more filters to the program?” he asks, looking impressed. 

“I couldn’t get to sleep last night, so I was fiddling with it a bit. And then I found this,” she points and the screen displays a Galra cruiser circling a frozen planet. Hope surges in Lance’s chest at the news, glad that they have a new lead.

There’s whispering behind Lance as he looks at the projections. “Could you describe it for me?” Takashi says softly. Lance catches Keith in the corner of his eye, leaning in towards Takashi and speaking too quietly to hear.

Pidge focuses in on the Galra vessel, zooming the image in. “This particular ship has been orbiting this planet for months. There aren’t any nearby civilizations, there aren’t any resources, there’s nothing—”

“Wait, the planet is covered in ice?” Takashi interrupts. Pidge looks over to him. 

“Yes, the whole thing is frozen over. It’s like it’s in its own ice age.”

Takashi nods, determined. “I crash landed on an ice planet after I escaped from a Galra ship. There’s an undercover resistance base there. Very undercover. They’d never heard of Voltron before.”

Pidge’s hands excitedly whip around to manipulate the map they were looking at. The planet disappears as she zooms out, the star field lit up to show the liberated parts of the universe versus the expanse of the Galra Empire. “This might be it! The planet is deep in Galra territory, so far in that there’s a good chance that word of Voltron might not have gotten to them!”

Hunk hums next to Lance, head tilted in confusion. “But why are they still _there_ , you know? It’s been months. Why hang out in the middle of nowhere orbiting some random planet?”

“Hmm, let me see something,” Pidge mutters. She zooms back in to focus on the surrounding solar systems, and with a quick burst of typing the image lights up with trails of purple illuminating paths through space.

“Oh! They’re in a low traffic area!” Matt says, leaning into the star map to observe it closer.

“What, so they don’t get rush hour traffic there? What are you talking about?” Lance asks, hoping that someone would get to the point soon. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Keith strung tight with anticipation. Looks like he’s not the only impatient one.

Pidge traces a finger along one of the purple lines, all of them going around or completely avoiding the one solar system that the ice planet, and Galra ship, resided. “There’s nothing there, so the Galra patrols go through faster routes, or skim around it. Whatever ship is there probably is trying to avoid attention from passing Galra.”

“Or perhaps they are avoiding attention from the entire Empire,” Allura suggests.

“Lotor heard about the experiments, but that was through rumors. Maybe central command doesn’t know about them?” Hunk adds. 

“Which means that they won’t call for back up when we ambush them,” Keith says, determined. Lance wants to tell him to cool his jets, but he’s itching to rescue Shiro too. And this sounds like the best shot they have.

“Okay, so there’s a good chance that they have Shiro. And like Keith said, they probably won’t surprise us with backup. Let’s make a plan,” Lance says with a smile.

***

Pidge’s Lion is rigged to cloak not only itself, but the Black and Red Lion’s, the three flying in close formation. The Galra ship in the distance is dwarfed by the icy blue planet it orbits, currently in its shadow.

“Hey guys. Why couldn’t Allura and I take our lions again? What happened to safety in numbers? What happened to me having my own big safe Lion?” Hunk asks. His face shows up on the display, head peeking around Keith’s seat in the Red Lion. Pidge and Allura pop up next to them, green light filling the cockpit. 

“We do not want to risk placing all of the lions in the hands of an unknown order of Galra. Who knows what experiments they may try to conduct on Voltron if they had the chance,” Allura says, voice stern. 

“Yeah, and the fewer the Lions, the easier it is to sneak in. We don’t want them to know we’re coming and do something to Shiro before we get there,” Pidge reminds him. Lance nods. 

“And we took Red because he’s the fastest in case we need to get Shiro out as quickly as possible,” Keith adds, giving Hunk a look. He sighs. 

“No I _get_ it, I just don’t want to.”

“Hey, did you finish working on your project, Pidge? Rover 2.0, right?” Lance asks, hoping to distract Hunk. Pidge rolls her eyes.

“She’s not 2.0, I started completely from scratch with a new design and programs and everything. And her name is Rosetta.” A white orb floats behind Pidge’s head, blue lines of light running in patterns along the sides.

Lance quirks a brow. “Rosetta? Not like, Spot or Fido or something?”

“No, Rosetta like the stone, Lance,” Keith corrects him. Lance sticks a tongue out at him. 

“You thought I named him Rover like a dog? No! It was like a space rover, you know? Curiosity, Sojourner, Lunokhod? And it’s not Rosetta like the stone, it’s like the first probe that successfully landed on a comet? Come on guys, you went to the same aerospace program that I did,” Pidge corrects them, sounding exasperated. 

“I knew all that,” Hunk says proudly. 

“Ok well, is _Rosetta_ ready to go?” Lance asks.

“I’m actually thinking of calling her Rosie for short, Rosetta is kinda long and Rosie just sounds cute, don’t you th—”

“Pidge!”

She startles and loses her grip on the controls and everyone is jostled. 

“Lance, bring it down a few notches, ok?” Hunk says calmly.

Lance sighs, a bit embarrassed at his outburst. “Sorry Pidge. I just want to make sure we’re all set.”

“We are. I’ll send Rosie out to deactivate the security systems.” The orb disappears from behind her to fly outside her Lion towards the ship. A keyboard appears in front of Pidge and she begins to type in her usual lightning pace. After a few ticks she smirks. “They just make it too easy for me.”

She leads them forward towards a hangar bay door, security drones floating uselessly around the entrance outside the ship. With a bit more typing, Pidge has the door open for them and they touch down as one in the large deck. Lance feels some sort of energy radiating around him, and at first he thinks it’s from the ship. But with a jolt he realizes that the tension is coming from his Lion.

“Guys, I think Black can sense something. I think Shiro’s on the ship,” he says over the headsets, quickly climbing out of his seat. 

“Then it’s time to go get him,” Keith replies, absolutely resolute. They group up in front of the Black Lion. Pidge projects a map of the ship from her gauntlet. 

“We already took a scan of the layout of the ship. Prison cells are usually located here,” she points to one end of the ship. “But I’ve never seen this setup of rooms before on previous missions,” she adds, pointing to the opposite end. “Either would be a good bet for where they’re keeping Shiro.”

“If we split up we can get to both locations quickly,” Allura suggests. Keith nods.

“That sounds like a good idea, cover more ground that way,” he says.

“I dunno, didn’t we say we don’t have any idea what they do here? Shouldn’t we stick together?” Hunk asks, looking nervously between them all. 

There’s a tug in Lance’s gut, something that tells him to be cautious. Lance always tries to listens to his instincts.

“I think we should all go together. Yeah, Keith I know, it might take more time,” he says as Keith bristles, “But I think for this I’d rather be safe than sorry. What do you think our best bet is?” he asks, turning to Pidge.

Her eyes rapidly scan over the data that the map provides. She grimaces. “If I had to choose, I’d say the unknown rooms. From what Takashi described, he wasn’t kept in the prison cells.”

Lance nods, “Then let’s get going.”

Rosie floats ahead of them as they creep through the hallways. Whatever programming Pidge used helped redirect the patrols, no sentries cross their path as they wove through the halls. A few times they came close enough so that they could hear their rhythmic footsteps. After some effort, the group makes it to the end of a corridor, with an entrance blocked by a security pad. 

“Just one tick,” Pidge mutters, hooking Rosie up to the panel. More than a few ticks pass.

“Anything wrong?” Hunk asks, looking over her shoulder. She swats him away.

“Nothing _wrong_ , it’s just a bit more than I was expecting to come up against. Just a little more and—” There’s a small beep as the pad lights up green. “Got it!”

They file inside a narrower hall, lined with doors to smaller rooms. Lance peeks through the window of one to see an operating table, propped up at an angle. Tools and equipment are lined up meticulously on side tables. Even with how clean it looks, it unsettles something in Lance’s stomach.

“Anyone else getting the heebie-jeebies?” he asks. Hunk nods. Allura waves her hand so-so as she herself looks into one of the rooms. She freezes, and suddenly ducks down on her knees. She gestures for everyone else to drop down. 

“There’s a Galra soldier in there, not just a sentry. They had they’re back turned so I don’t believe they saw me,” she says calmly over the headsets. Lance’s heart pounds in his ears.

“Was there anyone else in there?” Keith asks. Allura shakes her head. 

“Let’s keep going,” Pidge whispers. They move forward, knees and backs bent to avoid passing by the windows. Pidge sets Rosie to scan for life signs in the area, allowing them to pass by many unoccupied rooms. Near the end of the hall Rosie perks up, twisting to face towards a particular door. Lance gives everyone a look of acknowledgement, easing himself up towards the corner of the window to look. He prays that he’s not blowing his cover as he sneaks a peek.

No solider is waiting on the other side. There’s more equipment, things that look like the healing pods they have on the castle and-

Wait.

“He’s in there,” Lance says faintly. Keith bolts up next to him for a look.

“Where, what do you mean—” he asks before his voice catches. Lance activates the door and it slides open, the whole team piling in. The back wall of the room is lined with the pods, all empty save for one.

Shiro stands frozen, hair long like Takashi’s was when he first arrived. His is only chin length, white part a little longer. He’s skinnier as well; muscle mass lost in his shoulders and arms- his arm is missing the Galra prosthetic. Lance’s stomach twists as he realizes Takashi has had the original one this entire time.

Allura rushes forward, calling up the controls and scanning through information. Lance still feels kind of faint. He didn’t have any expectations for how they would find Shiro, and it totally could have been a lot worse. Right? Those other rooms with the operating tables...yeah things could be a lot worse.

“Those backwards, uncaring, felchspiltering—” Allura mutters under her breath, absolutely enraged. “The pods they use are low quality, and they haven’t even bothered to do maintenance on them. He isn’t frozen properly in cryogenic sleep; his vitals have been slowly deteriorating these past few months. They put him in here and _forgot about him_.” Her hands curl into fists against the glass.

“Is it- can we reverse it?” Keith asks, voice rising as well. Hunk shooshes both of them.

“Galra soldiers down the hall, remember guys?”

“Is it safe to move him?” Lance asks, a prickling sensation of dread working up his neck. Allura gives a hesitant nod.

“He’ll be weak, we have to carry him. It will be a long while before he can regain his strength,” she says. Pidge looks over the vitals as well.

“I think it’s sort of like when people wake up from a coma? They haven’t used their muscles in so long, it takes time to build it all back up.”

“But he’ll be fine?” Keith asks, eyes blazing. Allura gives a confident nod.

“We’ll make sure of it.”

It doesn’t take much time for Pidge to hook Rosie up to the pod, and soon the glass disappears down into the floor. Keith catches Shiro as he collapses, supporting him against his chest. He looks wrecked as he looks down at Shiro. Lance wants to help him, but doesn’t want to get in the way of moving Shiro or in Keith reconnecting. It’s nerve wracking when Shiro doesn’t wake up from all of the jostling. Keith swings him onto his back, hands gripping the back of Shiro’s knees.

“I can carry him if you want—” Hunk starts.

“I’ve got it,” Keith says firmly. He adjusts Shiro’s weight again on his back. His expression falters. “He’s...he’s so light.”

Lance opens his mouth to say something. He’s not sure what, but it was going to be something encouraging, or heartwarming, or maybe a joke. He’s not sure. Instead, he’s interrupted by the door behind him sliding open, and a Galra scientist walking inside.

“Come on, what’s broken now—” he freezes mid-sentence at the sight of the six of them, and team Voltron freezes right back. Before any of them can move he slaps something on his chest and yells, “Intruders in room—” before cutting off in a screech of pain. Pidge’s electrified bayard drops to the floor after connecting with him.

“Time to blow this popsicle stand. Everyone knows their positions right? Hunk you lead with covering fire, Pidge will support you. Keith, follow behind them. Allura and I will take up the rear and provide cover. Let’s go!” Lance yells as they race out into the hallway.

Activating his bayard into a blaster, Lance turns and quickly shoots the access panels to the end of the hall behind them, making sure no one else can get in and follow them. As the team gets back to the main corridors, they quickly realize that the programming on the drones has been overridden. Scores are marching in their direction from deep in the ship.

“The rest of you go on ahead, Lance and I will provide you time!” Allura says, turning to face towards the crowd of robots. Lance rapid fires at the drones, taking them down two at a time as his blasts puncture through them. He and Allura walk backwards in the direction towards the Lions, her whipping her bayard to strike at medium range and Lance taking out enemies at a farther distance. 

“We’re nearly at the Lions, hurry up!” Keith says, his voice tinted with static at the distance between their helmets. Lance snorts. 

“Sorry it’s taking us too long to save everyone’s asses!” he yells back, fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“We have to fall back. Let’s go,” Allura says, turning to race back to the Lions. Lance takes a few more shots, seeing a few Galra soldiers running in behind the sentries. He does not want to deal with those guys today.

“Coming behind ya,” he says and takes off running. A few scattered shots hit around his feet and he nearly laughs. Sentries are literally the Stormtroopers of the universe; they can never land a shot-

There’s a burst of pain behind his knee as he rounds a corner and Lance can’t stop the shout crawling from his throat. His momentum carries him forward to take another step before his leg crumples underneath him. He goes down _hard_ , hands still wrapped around his bayard, not enough time to reach out and break his fall. His head snaps against the metal floor of the ship, and all he can see are stars for a few ticks.

Lance reaches a panicked hand down towards the back of his left leg, feeling for damage. The armor on his calf is buckled in, edge pressing into muscle and tendons at the back of his knee.

“G-guys, a little help back here?” he calls frantically. The ringing in his ears is too loud, he can’t hear the low level static or the sharp breaths of his teammates or-

No.

It’s not the ringing that’s cutting out the sound. His headset isn’t working.

“Guys? Allura, I’m down!” he tries again, hoping the microphone is working. There are footsteps quickly approaching him, but they’re coming from the wrong direction.

Things seem to slow down in Lance’s mind. He’s starts to roll over onto his back, one hand adjusting his weight, the other gripped uselessly onto his gun. Out of the corner of his eye he sees approaching figures, three. Two sentries and a Galra soldier with a gun the size of Hunk’s blaster. Lance’s heart freezes in his chest. The gun is brightening as it powers up, energy focused at the end of its barrel. The Galra’s eyes light up as he catches sight of Lance on the floor, half rolled onto his back. 

Lance realizes with startling clarity that he might not make it out of here. His grip loosens on his gun, blood frozen in his veins.

_At least they have Shiro back_ , he thinks hollowly. _There will still be enough people to pilot Voltron without me._

Without him.

_What’s the point in saving one team member if we just lose another? So if you don’t stick around for yourself, how about you stick around for us, huh?_

Lance’s own words drown out his thoughts. He’s worth just as much as the rest of his teammates, they still need him, they want him. His heart kicks back into gear, thudding in his ears. He needs to fight as hard as he can to make it back to them.

With that in mind, he drops his bayard as he rolls all the way onto his back, arms outstretched as though he’s ready to surrender. Lance can see the beginnings of a smirk on the Galra soldier’s lips. Except, his blaster doesn’t fall to his chest. Instead, the weapon blurs, and splits to form a pistol in each hand. Two simultaneous shots take out the drones.

The next heartbeat passes.

The Galra soldier grunts, his finger is already compressing the trigger. Lance won’t be able to bring the pistols together fast enough to fire back, he tried, he did, but he wasn’t fast enough he-

A blue blur flies over his head and knocks the Galra soldier back, his gun firing into the ceiling. Lance’s hands finish their motion and he takes two shots, knocking the Galran backwards onto the floor.

Time catches up with him all at once.

“Lance!” Allura calls, and he doesn’t hear it in his headset. Instead she’s at his side, hands running up and down his armor.

“Boy, am I glad to see you, Allura” is what he wants to say.

“Leg,” is what he manages to grit out.

Allura quickly finds the divot in the armor at the back of his knee. Her fingers dig underneath and there’s a sharp increase of pain at the added pressure before she pops the material back into place. Lance chokes out a relieved sigh.

“I have him, his leg- yes Keith I said I have him. Yes, he’s fine- Keith! Please give me a moment,” she says into her headset and Lance can’t hear anything on the other side. The reduced pressure on his leg is an overpowering relief. He struggles to push himself up, Allura’s hands quickly come down to help. 

“Thanks for the assist there,” Lance says as she steadies him. Allura smiles.

“Of course. Are you able to run? Or should I carry you?”

Lance tests his weight on his leg and it aches, it aches _a lot_ but he’s still got adrenaline coursing through his veins and the sound of Galra sentries pounding in the corridor behind them. 

“I got this. Let’s go!” he says and they surge forward. It takes Lance a tick to figure out how to best adjust his weight to prevent a shock of pain at every stride but he manages.

“We’re coming now, Lance is able to support himself and is with me. Other than his leg he appears fine,” Allura says, seemingly answering someone on the other end of the line. Lance runs his fingers along the front of his helmet and feels a small dent there.

“I guess I did a number on this.”

“Oh, did you injure your head as well?” Allura asks, eyes scanning over him quickly. Lance shakes his head.

“Nah, I think the shock absorbers did the trick. No signs of a concussion.” He would know, he’s had a couple during his tenure of being a Paladin. He and Allura speed up as shots whiz by their heads. “Tell the rest of them that we’re coming in hot!”

“What importance is our body temperature to this situation?” Allura asks, confused. Lance laughs. 

“No, no. Just tell them we’ve got company.”

Soon they’re racing into the hangar that stored the three lions, Red already powered up and surrounded by downed drones. Green lights up and Pidge’s voice projects through the hangar.

“Don’t stop running!” she says. Lance pants as he makes the last push towards the Black Lion, his leg screaming at him each time he puts pressure on it. Allura runs to join Pidge as a ray of green energy flies over her. Vines burst from the floor to create towering walls ten feet high behind them. Lance barrels into Black, climbing up into the works and into his seat. He flicks on the communications as soon as the Lion lights up.

“Let’s get the quiznak out of here!” he yells. The three Lions burst from the hangar, shots from the ship flying haphazardly after them. He can hear Hunk laugh in relief. Lance pries his helmet off quickly to get some more air, sweat dripping down temples. He tries to adjust his one leg so that the armor doesn’t dig in. A video request from the Red Lion pops up on his screen and he declines it.

“What the hell—” Keith swears over the comms.

“You alright, Lance?” Hunk asks over him. 

“We have plenty of time to chat when we get back to the castle, right?” Lance says. He grits his teeth over a jolt of pain from his leg. He’s not looking his best right now, and he doesn’t want to freak Hunk out before they get back and can actually do something about it. The castle quickly comes back into view, and Lance allows Black to return to his place on autopilot. The boosters flare as the Lion lands, softening the blow.

Lance leans back into the pilot seat, exhaling in relief. He takes a few deep breaths to collect himself, and as he does a smile stretches across his face. They did it, they have Shiro safe and sound, they brought back their Lions and Lance is still in one piece. Mostly. His left calf _throbs_ and he doesn’t want to stand and put pressure on it.

“Are you alright in there?” Allura’s voice chimes in over the comms in the Lions. Lance bites back a groan.

“You need any help getting out? Allura said you injured your leg, right?” Hunk adds.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll be out in a tick. Just, uh, doing some diagnostics on the old guy,” Lance lies. The focus should be on Shiro right now, making sure he’s taken care of. Lance can take care of his bruised leg and his (to a lesser degree) bruised ego.

He pushes himself up off his chair, his weight supported by his arms. Standing on one leg, he gingerly lowers the other, testing it out. It nearly buckles underneath him. 

“Nope, nope, nope,” he mutters, hopping over towards the control panels to lean against. He has no idea how he’s going to climb out of the Lion at this rate.

There’s a dull thud behind Lance, the sound of a hatch opening deeper in the Black Lion. Lance sighs in relief. Someone was coming to help him out anyway. He sits against the controls, keeping the weight off his left leg. He kinda hopes it’s Hunk, so that he can carry him out. Or actually, Allura could totally carry him too, and would probably have an easier time of it.

So it comes as a surprise when Lance sees Keith round the corner.

“Oh, hey! Why aren’t you with Shiro?” Lance asks, totally confused. Keith flew Shiro over in the Red Lion, he was the one who had insisted on taking responsibility for getting Shiro off that ship. It’s weird that he wasn’t sticking with him.

Keith works his way around the seat to Lance’s side, grabbing Lance’s arm and hoisting it over his shoulders without asking. “Coran brought a stretcher. The rest of the team is getting him set up with a pod. Can you walk?”

Lance looks down in utter shock. In what universe would Keith rather be helping him out than being by Shiro’s side? “Uh, no. Well, maybe. It hurts though,” he answers, thoughts tangled. Keith nods.

“Just lean your weight on me, don’t put pressure on that leg,” he says.

“Gotcha,” Lance replies, and winces as they move, left leg jostling too much. Keith adjusts his grip. They slowly work their way through the Black Lion, across the hangar and towards the medical bay.

They find a good rhythm, balancing against each other. Lance is looking forward to icing his leg and passing out for a day and a half.

“Thanks for helping me out of the Lion, I’d probably still be in there if you didn’t come,” Lance jokes. Keith’s jaw clenches tight. Come on, what did he say now to annoy Keith? He doesn’t have it in him to fight, so he stays quiet until they reach the medical bay. It’s empty, since the healing pods were kept separate. Keith helps Lance up onto a bed and turns to search through the drawers of the nearby cabinets.

Lance leans down to pop the armor off his leg. He takes special care with the left calf, making sure it didn’t brush against the inside of his knee. He hisses when it catches anyway.

“I could have gotten that,” Keith says, dropping down next to Lance with a handful of supplies. There are some bandages, a cooling gel that increases the speed of healing and a coagulant.

“You were taking too long. And I can take care of it, you go make sure Shiro’s alright,” Lance says, waving his hand dismissively. He leans down to grab the bottom of the tight black under armor at his ankle, but Keith’s hand stills him. Lance looks up to argue, and is stunned into silence at Keith’s expression.

At first he looks angry, and jeez, can’t Lance catch a break? But he realizes with a start that it’s not properly anger, but a mix of something more complicated. Lance can tell that Keith was worried… Worried over him? His leg isn’t that bad.

Keith’s grip tightens around his hand, his eyes search into Lance’s like he’s looking for something there. He sighs after a moment, pushing Lance’s hand away and kneels down to roll the material up himself.

“Shiro’s fine now that he’s in a pod. You might not be, so let me check how bad the damage is.”

Lance opens his mouth to argue, but stills when Keith’s hands brush up the side of his leg. He coughs into his fist to hide the croak in his throat. Keith rolls the fabric up over his knee, then takes a stool to prop Lance’s foot on. Lance tilts his leg so he can get a look at the damage and yeah. Hoo boy. 

“That’s gonna be nasty tomorrow,” he mutters. The bruise is already huge, and he only got it a varga ago. It hasn’t even had a chance to darken much, still an inflamed looking red. There’s a small gouge near the top, where his armor bit into the skin as it buckled. It’s still sticky with blood.

“Hopefully it won’t be too bad with the gel,” Keith says. He picks up a wipe to clean the blood off. Lance focuses on the feeling of Keith’s fingers holding his leg in place instead of the sting of alcohol. Keith has a small wrinkle between his eyebrows as he concentrates. Lance wants to run his thumb along it to smooth it out. He wants to dig his hand through Keith’s hair. He wants to pull him up from his position on the floor and-

“Shit!” Lance hisses in pain as the gel is applied. It stings worse than the alcohol, injecting itself into his bloodstream like tiny needles.

“Sorry, should have warned you,” Keith mutters as he unrolls a bit of bandage to cover the gel and keep it in place. Lance let’s out a suffering sigh.

“It’s fine. Thanks for helping. And for being worried about me,” Lance adds, a touch of teasing in his tone. Keith’s hands tighten around the material.

“Who said I was worried?” He asks as he begins to wrap the bandage. Lance winces as the gel soaks in deeper.

“Over the comms, Allura said—”

“You could hear?” Keith asks, voice sharp. Lance tilts his head to get a closer look at Keith’s expression. His face seems paler than usual, features set like he’s expecting some bad news. 

“Uh, no. I thought I heard Allura tell you I was alright over the headsets,” Keith looks away, like he’s been caught at something. Lance grins. “You were! You were worried about me! Aw, Keith, you big softy.” Something warm fills Lance’s chest at the idea. Keith was worried about him, enough to badger Allura over the headsets, enough to save Lance from his Lion and take care of him in the med bay. Lance lets the warmth settle in his chest; he still doesn’t know how he managed to get the best pilot and fiercest fighter on the team to care this much about him. Maybe not the same way Lance cares, but still.

Keith looks back up, probably to tell Lance off but he pauses. His eyes widen a fraction in surprise. Lance buries his smile, but it seems the damage is done. Keith zeroes in on him, his hand tightening uncomfortably on Lance’s knee.

“What did you mean?”

Lance blinks. “What did what mean?”

“With Hunk, when he was carrying you, you said... What did you mean by ‘I care about you’?”

A heartbeat. Two. Lance feels himself go cold and then hot. He can’t think of an excuse, some explanation because Keith is looking up at him like he can see into him, straight through to the dark messy corners. Lance doesn’t know how to construct a believable lie under that kind of scrutiny. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

Keith’s grip loosens on Lance’s leg, leaving pins and needles in his wake. “Oh,” he says softly, still looking up at Lance with surprise written across his face. 

Lance flashes hot with embarrassment, because yeah, that was stupid of him to say. Now the cat is all but out of the bag. He was supposed to keep his feelings on lock down, not bother Keith with them at all. And maybe it was a bit nice, being able to pretend for a bit that maybe something _could_ happen, instead of Keith shutting him down. Lance looks away, not able to take Keith’s expression any longer. There’s a clink as Keith shifts, his armor bumping against the stool. Getting up to leave?

“Hey, I uh. I’m sorry if I—” –made you uncomfortable, made things weird, he’s not sure how to finish.

Keith doesn’t move away, though. He stands and pushes into Lance’s space, between Lance’s knees where they dangle off the medical bed. Lance looks up, realizing he’s eye level with Keith. And Jesus, Keith’s eyes. They’re incredibly bright in the overhead lights, a mystifying purple that’s always caught Lance’s attention before he even knew what that attention meant. He stares at Lance steadily, hands coming to rest on the bed on either side of Lance’s hips. His hair is still a mess from his helmet, face flushed far after they’ve gotten done running. Keith is leaning towards him, like gravity is pulling at him. But he doesn’t fall into Lance, he pauses halfway. 

It’s the way he looks miserable, but at the same time crushingly hopeful. It’s the way that his eyes flick back and forth between Lance’s, then down to his lips. It’s the way that his breath skips when he inhales and tries to speak.

“Lance, I—” he stops. But Lance understands anyway. 

“Oh,” is all Lance can softly echo as the pieces fall into place. His hand moves by itself to brush against Keith’s cheek, fingers steady even though it feels like his heart is ready to burst out of his chest. Keith’s eyes flutter at the touch. Lance feels dizzy, this feels big, whatever is between them. It feels larger than the space in his chest can hold. 

It’s Keith, again, who moves forward and closes the distance between them. And Lance expects something hurried and forceful, because that’s what Keith is. All fast lines and bruising moves. But with this, he’s gentle. No, not gentle, he goes slow, but intently, lips against Lance’s like he’s trying to convey something important. Like he has all the time in the world to say it just right. Lance’s hand slides from Keith’s cheek into his hair, to hold onto something, because he’s melting; absolutely falling apart at the seams. Kisses like this _mean_ something, he thinks as he shivers. It means a lot more than he knows how to properly put into words.

Lance isn’t sure how much time has passed when Keith pulls away, breath coming a little hard. Lance isn’t doing much better, he probably looks just like Keith does, eyes glassy, face flushed. Lance blinks as he stares, and he cannot stop the big, goofy grin the spreads across his face.

“No way. No way!” he says, and grips onto Keith’s face with both hands. His heart is soaring in his chest because that. That just happened. Keith _kissed_ him. **_Keith_**.

Keith laughs, a bit breathless. “Yes way. Also please never get shot again. Ever.”

“Are you kissing me because I got shot? I’m not gonna lie to you, Keith, but that makes me think it might be a good idea to get shot every once and awhile-ack!” he cries out as Keith punches his arm. Lance rubs it, pouting. Keith glares at him. 

“I’m not joking, I thought my heart actually stopped when you suddenly got cut off. You could have died,” he says vehemently. Lance softens at the worry under his angry tone. He pulls Keith in for another kiss, even more gentle this time.

“I little taste of your own medicine, huh?” Lance whispers, “Now you know how I feel when you go and nearly blow yourself up.”

Keith bumps his forehead against Lance’s, sighing. “Yeah, I get it.” He takes a step back to run his eyes over Lance, focusing on the bandage wrapped securely around his leg. “I should probably help you get to bed.”

A large part of Lance is totally against the idea, since going to bed means that he’s not hanging out with Keith which seems like an utter crime right now. But an even _larger_ part is screaming at him to go to sleep, to just fall into his bed and pass out. He frowns, before shifting towards the edge of the medical cot.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he says, and lets Keith hook an arm under his shoulders to make sure he doesn’t topple over the moment he hits the floor. He gingerly shoves his foot back into his other shoe, ignoring how stupid he looks with one pant leg rolled up. After a few steps he gets his feet underneath him, and the ache in his leg dulls down enough that he can ignore it. Keith notices the change and lets go of him, but doesn’t move too far away. Their arms bump into each other as they walk.

Lance looks over and watches Keith, who- god. He just has this little smile on his lips like he’s so pleased with himself. It’s absolutely adorable. Lance slows his pace as they get to his room and Keith…continues down the hall past him. Oh, well...maybe it was silly to think about goodnight kisses like, right after your first kiss? They were nowhere near routine and expected kisses, but Lance could make an argument for just kissing all the time because it’s new and they could. But they have the time now, so Lance can definitely wait. 

“Night!” he calls down the hall to Keith who abruptly stops and looks back, confused.

“What are you- oh,” he looks at Lance’s door, and then down the hall towards his room. He gestures to Lance’s room. “I’ll be right back, I wanna try something,” he ducks quickly through his door. Lance blinks and tries to process that. He bumps into his own door as it opens and pushes down his rapidly escalating imagination. They were going to “““try something”””? In Lance’s room? The two of them?

Should he...change clothes? Oh wait actually he should definitely change clothes because he’s still in his Paladin armor and it’s gross and sweaty. Oh god, he looks disgusting right now! He can’t imagine trying to get down when he stank of battle sweat and his pores are clogged with dust and smoke. He scrambles around his room as quickly as he can, cursing under his breath when he pulls at the bandages on his leg. Chucking off pieces of armor, he digs around for his cleansing wipes he uses when he’s just too tired to head down to the bathroom to wash his face. He uses three of them. Entire body scrub down. Wait- wait he can’t let Keith find him in his room, on his bed, _in his boxers, scrubbing himself down with wet wipes_. Lance hurls the things towards his trash receptacle and fights with his pajamas to get them on so he can be decent. He collapses on the bed, heart racing. He’s a mess, who said he could be this big of a mess? 

Heart calming down, Lance waits for Keith to show up with growing nerves. He did say to wait for him right? Was this a test? Was he supposed to go and bother Keith? Did he just hallucinate the last fifteen dobashes? He’s about to get up when the alert on his door dings.

“Come in!” his voice squeaks. He coughs to clear it, eyes focusing in on the door. It opens, and a bundle of blankets enter. ..what? Then he notices an unfamiliar pair of red pajamas underneath the bedsheets. Keith leans to put them down, still holding onto a pillow. He kneads it nervously. 

“Sorry about the wait, it took longer than I thought to find the clothes. I never even knew that wall was a closet. And uh, I brought some more blankets? If we need them?” 

The pillow, the blankets, the comfy and calm Keith. Lance’s heart melts. “That’s so cute! You want to have a sleepo-AAAHHhhmmmph,” Lance screeches before the pillow Keith chucks at him muffles his voice. He pulls it off his face, scandalized. “Hey!”

“Don’t make fun of me, I thought it was a nice idea,” Keith huffs, annoyed.

“It is a nice idea! And I think it’s cute!”

“What did I just say about making fun of me?”

Lance gestures angrily with his hands. How? How did they start miscommunicating this quickly? “I’m not making fun of you?! Do you just not like being called cute or something because while that’s ridiculous I can still work with it but I at least have to be able to call you adorable because if not I’ll probably die.”

Keith looks at him, absolutely shocked. His face lightly flushes as he processes the words. “How can you-? Who even says that? Who just point blank compliments people?”

“Have you met me?”

Keith’s confusion is colored by disbelief. “You’re _flirting_ with me?” he asks incredulously, voice shooting up an octave.

He’s done. Honestly he’s just done his brain can’t take this anymore. “Yes!? Duh!?”

“O-oh,” Keith says, much more quietly. Like it only just occurred to him that Lance would want to flirt with him.

“I mean, is that alright?” Lance asks with an edge of exasperation still in his voice. Keith actually stops to think about it. He nods to himself. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he decides. This boy, honestly.

“Good to have the approval. And you should probs just leave your blankets there, I think that’s enough to drown us in the bed,” Keith frowns down at the pile before giving them a little kick to push them out of the way. He drags the bean bag chair that Pidge uses when she comes over to play video games towards the bed instead. Lance huffs, “Okay but really, I can’t get over this. You didn’t think I would flirt with you? How does that even make sense? I flirt with everyone I like,” Lance asks as Keith drops down with a soft thud. He picks his legs up to tuck them closer to his chest so more of him fits into the chair.

“I never thought you’d ever like me so it didn’t cross my mind,” Keith says with a shrug. Lance’s face falls. 

“Why would you think that?”

Keith looks away from him and down at a stray thread poking out of the beanbag. He plays with it between his fingers. “It just never seemed like a possibility. You only ever looked at girls, you’d always joke around but you’d never get close to me—”

“Because I was afraid I’d open my mouth and a torrential downpour of flirting would come out,” Lance interjects. Keith glances over at him with a small smile. 

“Seriously?”

“It’s half the reason I made fun of you so much. It was either making fun of your hair or telling you I had been staring at the back of your head for ten dobashes admiring the view. Teasing was easier to explain.”

The compliment causes Keith to smile just a bit more as he flicks his eyes back towards the bean bag thread. His legs curl up tighter in the chair. 

“I wish you would have said something. It would have made my life a lot easier.”

Lance gets more comfortable in the bed, stretching out so he’s lying down, the two of them on the same level. “Oh? How so?”

“I just wanted to be around you, all the time. When you were helping me out with leading the team, and trying to find Shiro, you were the one thing that kept me grounded. I could just...relax. Everything that was spinning around in my head would quiet when I saw you laughing. But after we were done training we’d go our separate ways to our rooms and I’d miss it. Sometimes I just wanted to be able to sit next to you on the couch in the common area, not planning for anything, not fighting about something, just. Leaning into each other,” he says unabashedly. 

Lance releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, warmth flooding over his face. “O-oh,” he whispers, absolutely floored. He suddenly feels too big for his skin, the room suddenly too small. 

“Yeah, so if you’d said something sooner it would have saved me from freaking out a lot because I could have just hung out with you whenever I wanted,” he tacks on, like the last part wasn’t something huge and meaningful. 

It doesn’t dissuade Lance in the slightest. The need to touch Keith has grown exponentially in the last dobash, and Lance can’t think of any good reasons not to.

“You getting tired?” he asks softly, not caring that it’s not following their current conversation. Keith blinks a few times to focus on Lance’s face, then nods. 

“Pretty tired,” he agrees.

“How about we get to sleep?” Lance shifts back on the bed towards the wall, working the blanket out from under him so he can pull it back for Keith.

“Sounds like a plan,” Keith rolls gracefully off the bean bag to the floor, a feat that Lance had thought impossible. He smiles as Keith smooths out the legs on his new pajama pants.

“I’m glad you decided to wear the Altean PJ’s. Now we match,” he says. Keith looks over at him.

“I only got them so you wouldn’t freak out about me sleeping in my boxers like you did that night with Pidge and Hunk. I still don’t get why it bothered you so m- wait.”

Oh no. 

Keith pins him with a suspicious glare. Lance’s neck is on fire with embarrassment.

“Ok so, hear me out—”

“You were freaking out because you liked me.”

Lance nods hastily. Keith’s description is a lot better than ‘I couldn’t have the image of you taking your pants off in front of me stuck in my head for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep the entire night with the idea that I could roll over and accidentally brush my hand against your thigh.’

“Yeah yup that was it. Totally.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I thought you were a prude or something. Or that you were weirdly overprotective of Pidge. Forget wearing these, then,” he says and grabs the hem of the pajamas. 

Eyes darting quickly away, Lance concentrates on the algae above his head instead of watching Keith take his pants off like it was nothing at all and that Lance didn’t want to stare at his legs and how could Keith be this oblivious-

The bed dips as Keith gets in, pulling the blankets up over both of them. He grabs his pillow from beside Lance and adjusts it so it fits next to Lance’s own. Lance shifts even more to give him room.

“Dim lights,” Keith tells the room, and the light drops down to something closer to lamp light. He frowns. “Why is it still so bright?” Lance can’t speak for a moment.

He looks gorgeous in the half light, edges soft and warm against his pillow. It suddenly feels a lot more intimate, but comfortable and familiar? Lance wants to bury his face into Keith’s chest, and maybe fall asleep like that. He wants to curl up against him, back to front, sharing heat. He-his eyes catch on Keith’s chin. He wants to run his lips along the line of Keith’s jaw, slow and exploratory, just to see what it’d be like.

Lance shivers and sits up straighter against his wall. His lips spark at just the idea. Keith stares at him.

“I said, how do you get your lights darker? I can’t change any of your presets.”

Lance claws his mind out of the hole it fell into. “Lights out,” he stumbles out and plunges them into darkness. A few of the lights on the entertainment set up add a faint blue glow to the room. Keith shifts down into the bed to get comfortable. Lance decides he probably should too. He slides down under the covers, heart still racing. He can’t stop staring at Keith, can’t quite grasp that this is actually happening.

Keith pops an eye open to look at him, and seems surprised to see Lance looking. Lance reaches a hand out to brush Keith’s hair out of his face, only to have it fall back immediately. He snorts gently.

“Nice try,” Keith mutters into his pillow.

“You should wear a headband more often. You look cute with your hair back,” Lance whispers.

“Shut up.”

“It’s true!” Lance protests. He laughs softly as Keith groans in annoyance.

“Can we just get to sleep? Today has been a _very_ long day,” Keith says, voice low.

“Who’s the one that got shot, Mr. Long Day?” Lance mutters, settling deeper into his pillow. Keith gives him a contemplative look, then moves a bit on the bed. He rolls, laying one arm across Lance and resting his head against Lance’s chest.

“Like I said, long day,” he says into the fabric of Lance’s shirt. A memory tugs at Lance as he lies frozen, Keith lying against him.

His older sister had snuck a cat into the house, a kitten really. She had found her outside in the rain, with no other cats or people in sight. They thought she would be shy, not being used to people or the indoors. Instead, she had walked right up to Lance, climbed into his lap and fallen asleep. Lance had sat still for an hour, heart swelling out of his chest at the sight of the little creature asleep against him. It took him a bit to be courageous enough to slowly pet the kitten, afraid she would bolt the moment he moved. Instead she chirped gently as he ran his hand down the curl of her back. His face hurt from smiling as he played with her fur, the rain pelting the window outside.

Lance’s chest hurts in just the same way now, overloaded with how much he’s feeling. He reaches a hesitant hand up to rest against Keith’s back, nervous to upset whatever balance they had. Keith just settles further into his chest. Lance prays to whatever space god is out there that he’ll survive this level of cute.

“Night,” he whispers. Keith mumbles something unintelligible back. It doesn’t take long for them to both pass out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! They're finally on the same page. But there's still a whole chunk of plot to get through, as well as a bit of smut, so stay tuned!


	9. Shiro | Lotor

Shiro wishes that this was the first time he’s woken up to a chunk of his life missing. He stares at the ceiling of his new room, though it’s hard to tell the difference at first glance. All of the rooms in this area of the castle are carbon copies of each other, so it isn’t much different. He sighs, trying not to think why he can’t use his old room right now. There’s enough to wrap his head around at the moment so he resolutely just…doesn’t think about it.

Sitting up and out of bed he ignores the aches that cling to his body like a fog. Something brushes against his face and he jerks backwards, surprised. It’s just his long hair, fallen out of the ponytail he’d put it in last night. He runs his hand through it and wonders why he hasn’t cut it yet. Maybe today. Maybe today he can keep his arm up long enough to shave his head without his muscles aching from fatigue. He just needs a few more days, a few more afternoons of training with Keith and eating the nutrient rich diet Hunk had set up for him. This wasn’t forever.

Taking a few, deep, steadying breaths Shiro stands up and gets ready for the morning. One of the few saving graces he has is the ever present rumbling of the Black Lion in his subconscious, encouraging even at this distance. Even though he’s been away for months the bond he has with his Lion is still strong, and Black wants to see him get better. Sometimes that sensation is the thing that gets him out of his room.

He makes his way towards Pidge’s workroom, staying close to the walls to both avoid bumping into the visiting coalition members and to give himself something to lean against if he needs it. His limbs sometimes shake underneath him, legs close to giving out. Coran assured him it would pass quickly with the proper nutrition and exercise. Shiro can’t wait.

Even though it’s early morning Pidge is already hard at work. She has schematics projected in the air to display the designs she’s fine tuning. Shiro watches as she twists a render of a prosthetic arm with a twist of her wrist, studying a small detail.

“How’s it looking?” Shiro asks, accidentally startling her. She looks up, and he can see the dark bags under her eyes. He sighs, this isn’t her getting work done in the morning before the rest of her duties. This is her still working from last night. She leans back to crack something in her spine, ignoring Shiro’s worried look.

“It’s going good. Hunk had a few suggestions for us last night before he went to bed, so I’m working on adding those into the design,” she says, zooming in on the elbow. Shiro looks, but doesn’t pretend he can tell the difference between now and what she showed him yesterday. He looks behind her desk to see a pile of blankets on the floor, Matt curled up underneath them. It brings a smile to Shiro’s lips.

“Long night, huh?”

Pidge looks down and smiles as well, she looks happier than Shiro has ever seen her. “Yeah, he wimped out around three. I told him to get some rest in his room but he told me he was just going to take a fifteen dobash break,” she rolls her eyes fondly.

Shiro looks down at Matt, still marveling at the fact that Pidge was finally able to find him. He looks so much older than when he last saw him, no longer a skinny and scared teen. He was nearly Shiro’s height now, with his own scars. Shiro settles into one of the stools Pidge has across from her workbench to keep her company.

“Breakfast train coming in!” Hunk announces from the door, right on time. The bundle of blankets behind Pidge is thrown violently into the air as Matt jerks upright.

“’s that food?” he asks; clearly only half awake. Shiro chuckles as Pidge laughs at how messy Matt’s hair is. Hunk carries in a few trays of food and carefully shifts some tools and projects on one of the other tables to set them down.

“Don’t worry, Matt! You didn’t show up for your usual breakfast so I assumed you hung out with Pidge all night and brought you some as well,” he sets a plate aside and Matt jumps up to grab it. Hunk places another next to Pidge and eyes the holographic arm approvingly, giving Pidge a thumbs up. He puts Shiro’s plate on Pidge’s table as well, and Shiro shifts his seat to get closer. It’s taken some time to get used to eating one handed.

“Thanks Hunk, for bringing this for me,” Shiro says, but Hunk waves him off.

“No problem! Anyway I can help you out, you know that. And I get why you don’t want to eat in the dining hall, I mean, uh. I just meant you should take all the time you need or, uh,” he stumbles over his words, afraid he’s stepped over a line. Hunk looks frantically between Shiro and Pidge, obviously hoping one of them will change the subject. Shiro’s stomach twists and he puts down his utensil, appetite suddenly gone.

No one mentions the man that has taken Shiro’s room. Not after Keith had sat Shiro down and told him, told him that they hadn’t found him for so long partly because they had stopped _searching_ because they thought he was already safe and sound- Shiro wasn’t able to comprehend it. There was a man with his face, his voice, his _memories_ , walking around the castle the same time as him.

And the thing is, it’s not like Shiro begrudges the team for not knowing, or not finding him sooner. How were they supposed to know, especially if Shiro was copied as well as they say? And it’s not like Shiro is angry that he had been replaced, the other man didn’t have a choice in the matter. No, he’s not angry.

The idea of meeting him…it sends a cold wave of fear down Shiro’s spine. There is one thing that Shiro has gotten very good at, and that is not facing himself. He puts everything else first; his role as leader, his friends, the universe. He won’t be able to hide anything from his, his…His _clone_ , and that is absolutely terrifying.

“Obviously he doesn’t want to eat in the dining hall. Lance might pester him to go on a joyride in Black, again,” Pidge says after an awkward silence. Shiro lets her steer the conversation, hooking onto the subject change readily.

“It wasn’t a joyride! He was asking Shiro for pointers,” Hunk jumps in, grabbing his own plate and sitting next to Shiro, quickly scooping up a few bites of his breakfast.

“He definitely was…enthusiastic,” Shiro says, trying to sound positive. Lance had been enthusiastic alright, Shiro had gotten motion sick for the first time since flight school, with all of the crazy spins and maneuvers Lance had put the Black Lion through. It was great being in the cockpit again, even with how unsteady his stomach was afterwards. Lance peppered him with questions and asked for better ways to utilize the Black Lion’s skills ‘Until you’re back to piloting him, of course!’

“Your face was so green,” Matt teases him over a spoonful of food. “I thought we were back at the Garrison, with you puking on Iverson’s shoes after your first simulator.”

Pidge and Hunk turn to face Shiro, absolutely delighted. Shiro coughs into his hand, embarrassed. “I…might have gotten a bit on his shoes.”

Pidge cackles, accidentally leaning forward and disrupting the projection. “He deserved it, the asshole.”

“Yeah, stick it to the man,” Matt says before Shiro can ask her not to curse. He glares at Matt who shrugs. “What? She can say what she wants, I’m not the boss of her,” he adds.

“Man, I gotta tell Lance about this, he’ll laugh his butt off. Shiro, make sure you finish all of that, alright?” Hunk says, pointing down at his food. He gathers up his half finished dish and Matt’s empty one and hurries out the door. Shiro rolls his eyes at the reminder, looking at the mostly full plate.

Pidge and Matt soon dissolve into discussions about their project, and Shiro lets the chatter wash over him. He feels lighter than he has in the past few days, more settled. He’s calm, for the first time in the past few days. Perhaps…

“I think I’ll actually head to the dining hall,” he finds himself saying. Matt whips his head around to stare at him, and Pidge’s glasses slide a bit down her nose in surprise. They both quickly school their expressions.

“Sounds good, we’ll see you later,” Matt says, giving him a confident grin. Pidge messes with the projection in front of her, moving it back and forth like it was waving. Shiro smiles at the sight.

“Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone,” he says as he picks up his plate, balancing it carefully as he gets off his stool. Pidge waves her own hand this time, dismissively.

“Of course! We haven’t even gotten to the physical part of the project yet, how much trouble could we get into?”

Shiro levels her with a glare. She sticks her tongue out at him. It’s obviously a losing battle, so Shiro takes off before anything mysteriously explodes.

There are a few people in the dining hall when he gets there, though not too many since it’s still early. They’re docked on Olkarion, which has become the central hub for Voltron’s activities as well as a safe place for refugees. Allura opens up the castle everyone while they’re here, which accounts for the unfamiliar faces. A small group of aliens sits at one end of the long table, eating bowls of food goo and chatting with each other. Shiro can’t see who’s sitting at the other end with the angle he entered the room, but he can take a pretty good guess considering the giant purple cat sitting next to one of the chairs. The cat picks its head up to look at him as he approaches, making a low rumble of acknowledgement. Shiro sets his plate down on the table and pulls his seat out, causing it to squeak as he moves it.

The chair next to him swivels at the noise, and Shiro stares at himself…at his clone. 

He thought he was ready.

Apparently he wasn’t.

The calm from just a few minutes ago has vanished. Instead, a cold and heavy sensation fills his chest, anxiety clawing up his throat. He stands frozen, waiting for the man in front of him to lunge. His vision blinks in and out for a moment, overlaying prisoner clothes and sharp yellow eyes. A man possessed by the Galra, a killing machine with no sense of mercy. His breathing comes in quick shallow pants as he starts to back away.

There’s a snort of laughter. Directly in front of him.

Shiro flinches, and suddenly the room snaps back in place. He’s in the castle, not a Galra battleship. The person before him isn’t a mirage created by Haggar with the express purpose to injure him. He’s...well his double is gently laughing.

“I wondered if Pidge programmed in anything for you, for my headset,” he says, tilting his head to the side. Shiro can see a small, sleek looking device at his ear. “It helps me identify people when they come in the room. Except for you she has ‘a mirror, I guess?’ I don’t think she thought that one through.”

“O-oh,” Shiro says hesitantly, limbs shaky as the adrenaline drops out of them. He grabs onto the back of the nearest chair to steady himself. His clone frowns.

“How bad is it?” he asks, still looking off to where Shiro was standing a second ago.

“How bad is what?” Shiro asks, trying to get control back over his breathing. He’s glad that no one had a chance to see him panicking, he’s sick of the team fussing over him constantly. 

“You know exactly what I mean. I’m not sure if I’d want to be the one seeing _you_ ,” the other man explains. Shiro closes his eyes as he realizes that his clone knows exactly how he’s feeling. He knows exactly what visions just pulsed through his head. There’s no use in pretending otherwise.

“Only a little freaked out,” Shiro admits, sighing in relief as the vice around his chest slowly eases. He sinks down into the chair he’s been holding onto. He looks back towards his clone and tries to see the man before him instead of a twisted memory in the back of his mind. With a sharp pang he realizes that the other man looks far more like _Shiro_ than he does. Shiro feels his muscle loss acutely, feels lopsided without his replacement prosthetic. He sighs and hears an echoing sigh beside him.

“PTSD is just the gift that keeps on giving,” the man says. Shiro stares at him in disbelief before snorting.

“Isn’t it, though?” he says, loosening a bit at the self-deprecating joke. He pauses, trying to figure out his thoughts. He’d been scared of having to see a reflection of himself. But perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad…at least he had someone who understood his brand of humor.

“I don’t know what—”

“I don’t know what—”

They both start at the same time. Shiro frowns. “You go first.”

“I don’t know what to call you,” the other man admits, focus down on his hands even though he can’t actually see them. Shiro huffs out a laugh.

“Same here, but I do know I’d hate being called Takashi. Why didn’t you tell them?”

His double shrugs. “Keith chose it; he thought it was a good idea. He didn’t know any better and I wasn’t really in a state of mind to correct him. It’s starting to grow on me a bit, I suppose. But I can’t imagine you using it. And… even though I’m alright with being called Takashi, I still feel like _Shiro_. It doesn’t feel right to call you that.”

Shiro nods, forgetting that he can’t be seen. “If you’re getting used to Takashi I could get used to calling you that too. And, you can call me whatever you’d like,” Shiro offers, hoping that sounds fair.

Takashi nods and reaches down to his side. He runs his hand down the leopard looking creature’s back. Slowly he smiles, looking over to Shiro. 

“If you could choose any other name in the world, what would it be? Or, what would it have been when you were a kid?”

Shiro blinks in confusion until it hits him. He frowns. “I can’t name myself after a Power Ranger,” he says flatly.

“No one needs to know that’s where Ryou came from,” Takashi says. Shiro sighs in over exaggerated annoyance.

“Is this what it’s going to be like? Having someone who shares all of my memories?”

Takashi shrugs. “It’ll take some getting used to. But I think it will actually work for the best. It’ll be harder to get away with things, sure—” he stops short as a thought crosses over his face. “Speaking of...”

Shiro feels the tension in the room increase. His hand tightens on the table. “Yes?”

“You should know that Coran has new codes on the airlocks. And that he wants to talk with you when you have a chance,” Takashi says, tone carefully conversational. 

Shiro quickly connects the dots, feeling like the air was punched from his chest. It’s not just him who knows about those horrid late night ideas, or the sudden crushing feeling of nothingness that hits him without warning. But...now it’s not just him who has to go through it. 

“It got that bad?” he asks quietly. Takashi just nods.

“It got pretty close. But I talked to Coran and Matt about it. Coran prescribed me something to help with the hormone imbalance, and it’s working for the most part. There are times when I wouldn’t mind getting hit by the nearest spacecraft but… It makes things quieter. Less overwhelming,” he explains. Shiro fidgets with his one hand on the table, already uncomfortable with how candid Takashi is speaking. Having it out in the open, addressing it, makes it far more real. 

_It was already real; you just weren’t doing anything about it._ A voice in his head reasons, rather harshly. He sighs.

“I’ll...talk to him when I can.”

“And I’ll make sure of it,” Takashi nods. Shiro groans. Having his own overprotective tendencies mirrored back at him is going to take some getting used to.

The rest of the team start to filter in, stopping to chat with aliens and allies that Shiro hasn’t had a chance to learn the names of. He sees Lance walk in with Keith, who stops to talk with a Blade agent. Shiro’s eyes narrow as he watches. 

“Is there something weird going on with Keith and Lance?” he asks as helps himself to a second serving from one of the many plates of the table. Takashi turns to look, head tilted to one side as he listens to the device in his ear. 

“The two of them are over there talking to Tezzeq, right?” he asks, confused. Shiro looks back over and notices how close the two are standing. This is saying quite a lot, since Lance and Keith always ended up next to each other even when they were at each other’s throats. The last he’d seen of them, they were just starting to be proper friends, but that fell apart from time to time in screaming matches. He freezes with his spork halfway to his mouth as he watches Lance place a hand on the small of Keith’s back, underneath his red jacket. A plop of food goo falls onto his plate.

“Did I miss something important?” he asks faintly.

Takashi’s eyes light up in understanding after a moment, and he chuckles. Shiro blinks; it’s weird to hear how that sounds to other people. “Wait, I think I know now. Pidge and Hunk were telling me  that after the mission to rescue you, Keith took Lance to the medbay to take care of his leg. Pidge pulled up the cameras to make sure they were doing alright, and…how did she phrase it? _I saw things I’d rather not see again for the rest of my life_ ,” Takashi says. “I didn’t understand what she meant until right now.”

Shiro turns back to look at them, now he can see the happiness radiating from Keith, something he’d noticed in training but didn’t know the source of. Lance looks happy as well, more comfortable in his own skin. Pride works its way into Shiro’s heart at the sight; he’s glad that Keith has found someone that could make him smile like that.

“So have you had the talk with Lance, yet?” Shiro asks, not taking his eyes off of the pair.

Takashi hums in disagreement. “Not yet. Was waiting for the best time. But now that I think about it…”

“Both of us cornering him at the same time, to just—”

“-just give him a friendly chat about what will happen if he hurts Keith sounds like a great idea,” Takashi finishes. Shiro turns to look at him over his shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe having someone on the same wavelength as you had its perks.

***

The rooms that Lotor called home these past few weeks are, arguably, quite lovely. They’re larger than the usual Altean style, a bedroom with joining bathroom, a sitting room to welcome guests and even a small dining area. It is a well-dressed prison, but a prison nonetheless. Lotor spends his time reading on a borrowed communicator, willingly given. He is usually reading the battle plans and confidential files of the Voltron coalition, unwillingly given. It may have been beyond his abilities to break past the security measures on the device, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t find someone to do it for him. 

It hadn’t been that hard to find assistance. While on the tour with the red-haired Altean, it was obvious that he was being watched closely by him. If he tried to alter anything on the castle, or steal anything, he would have been immediately caught. But why would he try to fruitlessly tamper with anything when he could spend the time observing the various aliens on the ship and their reactions to him? Most were, of course, unfavorable. He was the son of the leader of the Empire that had oppressed these people for millennia. He was the physical embodiment of the enemy; most of the individuals here would hate him.

‘Most’ being the important distinction.

Connections, those are what made people stronger. If you made the right connections and formed the right impression, you could do anything. Because in life there are always weak links. There are those who are meant to move forward and those who are not. There are people who understand that sometimes the moral high ground does not always create the safest outcome for those they care about. Or they realize that taking the high ground won’t guarantee they’ll end up on top. 

Lotor watched the eyes that followed him curiously instead of maliciously. He knew what they were thinking. Here is the prince that promised unity instead of tyranny under Galra control. If Voltron did not win this war...perhaps it would be a good idea to lay the groundworks to support the second best option. So, ever so slowly, the secret messages of support began to find their way to him. Lotor made sure to take advantage of every one he received.

His thoughts are still circling on favors and promises as the door to his chambers opens and a tall Lexrite enters. Its six eyes stay on the tray of food it carries, focused on not tipping over its contents. Lotor sits in the small section of his room that had been designated as a dining area. He lounges in his chair, not picking his head up from the communicator. The Lexrite places the tray down and shifts aside the utensils to reveal a small chip, the size of a fingernail.

“My thanks,” Lotor says, without looking at the creature. He inserts the chip into the comm, and watches as the new batch of information downloads. There’s a shuffle as the Lexrite folds his limbs into the seat across the table.

“Are you sure—”

“That the security cameras have been adjusted accordingly? Of course. No one knows that you are here,” Lotor promises him. He begins to read over the new data.

“But what if—”

Lotor holds a hand up to silence the man, as well as give him a moment to remember his name. “Chancellor Trisbane, I understand your concerns. But I assure you, I have someone on my side who has access to the castle’s security systems. It will appear to the casual observer that you have dropped off my meal, and promptly left to return to your room.”

Trisbane nods with his long neck stalk, six fingered hands twitching nervously on the table. “It is um, it is still Vice-Chancellor,” he corrects nervously. Ah, that’s what had him come in the first place.

“But rest assured, after all of this you will be Chancellor. Your support to the right cause will not be forgotten. Your people have long prospered under Galra support, and I know how it pains you that the current Chancellor fails to realize this,” he says, allowing a warm smile to cross his face. Trisbane smiles back, and waits a little more patiently as Lotor catches up on the latest plans of Team Voltron. He sighs, wishing that there was something more interesting to read than reports on supply runs.

After a few dobashes he places the comm down to refocus on his latest pawn. The creature’s many fingered hands flick restlessly on the table. 

“The Lexrites are renowned for their skills with the needle, are they not?” Lotor asks, watching as Trisbane’s eyes light up. He nods enthusiastically. 

“We are! Anything from sewing exquisite garments to stitching wounds, my people can—”

“Does it matter what material you’re using?” Lotor interrupts before he gets the entire tourist spiel. 

Trisbane puffs out his chest, and throat pouch. “Of course not! We can sew with the thread of a gossamer beetle up to thick cords of rhudinite. And we do it so well that you can’t even see the stitches,” he says proudly. 

Lotor lips curl into a grin.

“I have a favor to ask of you, then.” He pushes his comm between the two of them, displaying a holographic projection into the air. It is an undersuit, lit up blue with the material that needed to be added. Lines ran up down the spine, over to the arms and down the legs like a nervous system. Trisbane strokes his chin as he observes the plans. 

“It’s a strange pattern, I’m not sure how it would look—”

“It needs to be undetectable,” Lotor corrects him. Trisbane merely nods.

“Much better, then. No one would like this pattern anyway.”

Lotor pushes away from the table and Trisbane hastily stands as well, remembering to show the proper respect. He looks nervously at the plans and back to Lotor, obviously worried he’s done some offense. Lotor lets him steep in that fear for a few moments before he smiles once more, and Trisbane relaxes.

“The material will be provided to you soon. You must finish as quickly as possible to avoid any...complications,” Lotor says, hoping the implication is clear. Trisbane nods enthusiastically. 

“Of course! Provide me the thread and I will prove the strength of the Lexrite needle!”

“Good, good. Thank you for the assistance,” he says. Thankfully Trisbane takes this as the dismissal it is, hurriedly exiting the room. 

Lotor drops back down into his seat at the table, turning to his food. One more aspect of his plan is in motion; he can take this moment for himself.

He is fortunate that he had the forethought to create this backup plan. His initial plan- his hand grips too tightly around his utensil, bending the metaloid easily. He tries halfheartedly to twist it back into shape as he breathes deep to calm his temper.

He has always been ready to change his plans to suit his needs. The changes he’s had to make recently however...are on a far larger scale than he is used to. Truthfully? He is on the backup of the backup of his backup plan. 

It hadn’t come as a surprise to be kicked from the seat of power so quickly. He predicted that his father would be able to retake the thrown sooner rather than later. And that was absolutely fine with Lotor. He never wanted to be given the throne: he had his own plans for how to take it. Nor has he ever wanted his parents’ approval. Well, perhaps he once had, but those childhood memories are so long faded that they hardly bear thought. His father is an incalculably powerful and driven dictator, and his mother is a magic wielding monster who feigns at being a civilized creature. 

His generals... at this Lotor pauses above his meal. He did care for his generals. They were the group that he trusted implicitly. They were the ones who were supposed to help bring his dreams into reality. He still seethes silently with rage when he remembers how his mother had overpowered Narti’s own ability to control minds. Lotor twitches as he remembers Narti running a low level scan for bugs on his ship until he insisted on a higher one. Even with Narti’s eye on him his mother tried to sneak a tracker onto his ship as well. She was the one who taught him to always plan ahead, after all.

There might have been another way to deal with Narti, but nothing that could have been accomplished as efficiently as killing her to sever the connection. It had to be done. He’d thought that his other generals’ dedication to him and his cause would be enough to make them understand.

Apparently not. 

A part of him had understood their reaction. If he were in their position he wouldn’t want to be backing the losing side. He is a banished prince who is being chased down by half the Galra fleet. If they had been caught they all would have been immediately put to death, _thank you, mother and father._ His generals knocked him out in hopes of saving their own lives, planning to turn him in to the Empire in order to be pardoned.

But, that hadn’t been the biggest betrayal. No, receiving the message that the three of them had _destroyed_ his second ship and the meteor that had been on it was the final straw. They knew the lengths he had gone through to get the meteor that had been lodged between realities. How much time and precision went into developing the ships made out of that material. _They knew!_ They knew his plans to create a weapon that would surpass even Voltron itself, three ships to combine to form one formidable beast of a fighter. His design was more powerful, more streamlined. He would have destroyed Voltron and then moved on to forcibly remove his father from the throne. 

Pushing his plate away, Lotor takes a few deep breaths. There isn’t anything he can do about that now. If he ever has the delight of seeing his generals again then he can dole out the punishments accordingly.

He has to focus on the here and now. He’s right where he needs to be, nestled in the heart of his enemy’s territory. He pulls up a half finished message on his comm. Time to make his request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryou actually comes from the original Japanese version of Voltron, with the Shirogane brothers Takashi and Ryou. There was a Power Ranger called Ryo in the original Japanese version of the show, so we can pretend that Takashi got the name a bit mixed up.
> 
> Up next: the thrilling conclusion.


	10. Lance | Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! I hope you enjoyed this story. It's been such a great experience to plot out a longer story, and then actually dedicate the time and energy into finishing it. I hope everyone enjoys/enjoyed the actual season 5!

Lance stares up at the star map, brows furrowed. All of the planets from this distance look the same, and it’s not like he can discover a trap from this distance. Still, something feels _off_ with Lotor’s request, so he’s trying to find some fault with it before they warp there.

The door to the bridge opens to Keith, still dressed in his training gear (which is to say his regular clothes because someone won’t take the time to go shopping and get something different for a change.) Lance tears his focus away from the projection towards Keith, a smile jumping quickly to his lips.

“What are you looking at?” Keith asks, stopping in front of Lance to scan his eyes through the stars. He’s lit by their soft glow, softening the wrinkles from his frown.

“You,” Lance answers cheekily. Keith rolls his eyes.

“You idiot,” he complains, but Lance can see the smile at the corner of his lips. Lance reaches forward to tug on Keith’s shirt, drenched in sweat from the exercise.

“Any reason you came here first before you took a shower? A bit nasty, dude,” Lance says, smirking as Keith shoves him a bit. 

“I wanted to see if you found anything, so I got a bit sidetracked. I’ll head to the showers after this,” Keith says. Lance outwardly smiles, inwardly reminds himself to not think about Keith and showers as he’s done for the past few weeks since that first sleepover. He doesn’t even touch the thought with a ten foot mental pole. Explaining his thought process is a welcome distraction. He zooms in on the map with a gesture, focusing in on a destroyed and decaying planet.

“Daibazaal,” Lance mutters, twisting the projection this way and that to look at every angle. The planet looks whole and healthy, the data the castle has on this particular sector being millennia old. The team doesn’t know what exactly they’re stepping into.

“I don’t trust this. He says there’s a way to collect quintessence without destroying the life force of a planet like the Druids do...but why Daibazaal? It just feels like...” Keith trails off.

“A set up,” Lance finishes. He sighs. “I don’t want to go, even if there’s a chance that we can use that quintessence to help power things for the coalition. Something isn’t right. But we promised Lotor—”

Keith grunts. “And who says we have to follow through with it? He helped us find Shiro, I think we should just drop him off in the middle of nowhere and let him figure the rest out.”

Lance runs his hands up and down his biceps to ward off a crawling sense of unease. “I mean, Lotor could have decided to mess with us for _weeks_ now, and he hasn’t pulled anything yet. There’s no good reason not to...but I don’t want to,” he says reluctantly. He knows that they’ll still go, though. The rest of the team outvoted him. They thought that they should at least check out Lotor’s claims to see if they were true, not that they necessarily had to follow through with the request.

Keith frowns as well, knowing that he can’t change the plans either. Lance shrugs, deciding he’s spent enough brain power on a problem he can’t fix tonight. He plops down into the Black Paladin seat to get comfy, then gestures over at Keith.

Keith quirks an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“I don’t feel like walking all the way back to my room and I wanna hang out with you. Come on, just sit with me,” Lance whines.

“Weren’t you just complaining that I needed a shower?” Keith says, already heading over to the chair.

“Eh, I’ve seen you look worse after a batt- oof,” Lance huffs out as Keith lands half on top of him in the seat. He quickly rearranges their limbs so that they’re a bit more comfortable in the cramped space. Keith rests his head against Lance’s shoulder.

“Are you looking forward to giving the Black Lion back to Shiro?” he asks, voice so even that Lance knows he’s rehearsed the question a few times in his head.

“I...hmm,” Lance stays silent for a minute as he thinks, playing with Keith’s fingers resting in his lap. “I can still feel how badly Black misses Shiro. They have a _connection_ , like you and Red.”

“Or you and Blue,” Keith adds.

“I guess. So I think from the beginning I always knew that being the head of Voltron was gonna be temporary...I dunno. It’s a lot of work but—”

“You’re gonna miss it,” Keith finishes for him.

Lance nods. “Yeah,” he pauses, the rest of the sentence at the tip of his tongue. He’ll miss the feeling of confidence he has as the leader, with his teammates all looking up to him for his opinion. And he’ll miss _making_ those decisions, he doesn’t think he’s done a half bad job at leading. He doesn’t want to bring the mood down, though. “But hey! At least I’ll be able to take the traditional Black Paladin vacation after Shiro is in flying shape again.”

Keith leans back and stares at him. “The what?” he asks flatly.

“You know, I get a bit of time off—”

“Are you calling Shiro mysteriously being kidnapped by the Galra a vacation? Or me joining a secret rebel society a vacation?” he asks incredulously. Well when he puts it that way...

“Absolutely. But I’m planning on something a bit more low-key, I’m gonna book a week or two at some tropical planet and hang. I think Carodeon would be pretty cool,” he rambles, hoping Keith won’t punch him. He’s in luck.

“Or we could just alternate who pilots Red,” Keith suggests, going for an actual solution instead of Lance once again being the extra Paladin among the team. The fact that Keith would be willing to share his Lion melts something in Lance’s chest.

“Even better idea, we install another seat in there and we can copilot. There’d be one extra Paladin on the ground for missions and we can spend an obnoxious amount of time together,” Lance says. Keith’s expression falters.

“No I...I thought that while you’re piloting Red I could go on missions with the Blades, when they need me. It doesn’t make sense to have two Paladins in a Lion at once,” he says, voice firm.

Something cold drops into Lance’s stomach, hands unconsciously tightening around Keith. “Oh, I uh—” his voice cuts out.

Of course Keith is still going to go away on missions with the Marmorites, why did he think otherwise? Even though they have the highest mortality rate among the resistance, even though Keith looked like death warmed over when he got back from his month away on missions with them. Having Keith back in the castle just felt _right_ , even before things got serious between the two of them. Being in the Blade of Marmora isn’t _good_ for Keith, or at least the clawing feeling of worry tells Lance it isn’t good. 

_Not a good enough leader to prevent a teammate from going and blowing himself up. Not a good enough boyfriend to convince Keith to stay here with him._

He pushes down the thoughts, tinged with insecurity and not a small amount of self-loathing. Gotta stay positive. He’s still got Keith sitting in his lap, curled up against him. There’s time to think about that other stuff while Shiro heals.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Lance says eventually, realizing that the pause was far too long. Keith’s jaw tightens like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. He looks away. Lance sighs dramatically, shifting lower in the seat and dragging Keith down a bit as well, making him fall further into Lance. “I don’t _want_ to go on this mission,” Lance whines. The tension drops from Keith as he focuses on Lance.

“Sucks to be you, we still have to go and check it out,” Keith says, latching onto the distraction quickly. Lance tilts his head so it bumps into Keith’s.

“It’s like I’m not even the leader, huh? I say we forget this stupid plan and go finish rebuilding the damaged cities in that last sector. Much more productive,” he says, only half serious. He really would much rather be helping out people who needed it instead of going on a wild goose chase for Lotor.

“Maybe after this—”

There’s a sudden burst of feedback over the loudspeakers.

“Could you guys stop _canoodling_ on the bridge and get ready for the mission?” Pidge interrupts them. Lance groans in frustration.

“If you don’t want to see canoodling, stop spying on us!” he yells back. Keith gives him a considering look.

“She can’t hear you if you don’t use the intercom,” he says, like Lance doesn’t know that already. (He didn’t.) Even worse, Keith pulls himself upright and out of Lance’s lap. Lance misses the warmth immediately.

Reluctantly getting up as well, Lance stretches out his back before heading after Keith. “This is the worst, if Pidge hadn’t decided to spy on us—”

“To make sure you were OK,” Keith unhelpfully reminds him. Lance waves his hand.

“Minor detail. If she hadn’t spied on us, we could be making out and **_canoodling_** all we wanted. But no, Pidge has to tease us and Hunk has to be _happy_ for us and Allura has to think we’re the cutest thing next to the mice—”

“It’s not like those are even that bad?” Keith says, bemused. Lance pushes forward in his rant and down the hall.

“And Shiro and Takashi! I got the _dad talk_ from them, that I better treat you right— and no! Keith! You’re not supposed to laugh at that!” Lance says, utterly betrayed.

Keith snorts into his fist. “They gave you the ‘you break his heart, I’ll break your face?’ talk?” He looks genuinely surprised, and overly pleased. Lance huffs.

“Not in so many words, but it was implied. And I just told them that you were more likely to kick my ass before them so why bother talking to me about it!”

Keith laughs harder, which wasn’t the original goal but it definitely is now. They’re both a bit red in the face as they split off, Keith towards the showers and Lance towards his room. To grab some supplies.

“See you down there,” Keith says, grin fading. The reminder of the upcoming mission drags down Lance’s mood as well.

“Yeah, see you in a bit.”

***

The team gathers in the Black Lion’s hangar, all of them looking equally troubled. There’s a general sense of uneasiness that permeates the air, like being this close to a burned out planet is something you can feel on your skin. Lance shakes his head, trying to focus.

The coordinates that Lotor gave them conveniently led to somewhere tucked away in the ruined remains of the strangely shaped planet. Whatever he wanted them to look at couldn’t be picked up by the castles scanners. Because _of course_ they were going in blind. 

“Alright gang, everyone ready?” Lance asks as he tucks his helmet underneath his arm.

Pidge nods with a small smile on her lips, “Ready.”

Hunk shrugs, obviously nervous. He’d already tried to petition the idea to send out Rosie first to see what was up, doesn’t that sound better? But he’d been overruled by Pidge who didn’t want to put her robot in harm’s way.

Allura looks a bit nauseated. Lance wonders if it had anything to do with her history with the planet. Being this close to where the Galra Empire started probably wasn’t a fun time.

Keith also nods, giving Lance a steady smile. “All set.”

“So, we form Voltron when we get out there and take a look around and see how we feel about this new source of quintessence. At the first sign of trouble, we’re outta there, got it? Everybody head out!” Lance says. Hunk and Pidge turn towards the right to head towards their Lions, Allura and Keith to the left. Lance clears his throat. “Keith, could I get a last minute word with my second in command?” he asks keeping his voice smooth.

“Oh my god, do you have to make out with him before every mission?” Pidge calls over her shoulder. Lance whips around, ready to be on the defensive.

“So what if I do!” he shoots back, heated. A hand at his shoulder calms him down, and he turns to face a bemused Keith.

Keith pulls him down for a kiss, one that ends up being way too short. “We got this,” he says as he pulls away.

“Yeah we do,” Lance says, slapping a hand on Keith’s back as he walks away.

The Black Lion lights up quickly and Lance can feel it _thrumming_ with energy. Like something nearby is getting it excited or something. He tightens his grip on the controls, sort of nervous that maybe Black is going to take over for a second. 

“Woah there!” he shouts as he shoots violently out of the castle.

“Everything alright?” Allura asks over the comms.

“I’m fine, it’s just the Black Lion is acting a bit funky—”

“Well perhaps...It might be reacting to the close proximity of the planet it once called home,” she says, voice conflicted.

“Well whatever the reason, are we going to have any trouble forming Voltron?” Keith asks, connecting his video feed to the rest of the Lions. Lance rolls his eyes. 

“Hold your horses, cowboy. I was just getting to it,” he punches the levers forward and shoots forward, “Form Voltron!”

His fellow Paladins fall into rank besides him and the pieces slowly come together. Lance still can’t quite get over the sensation of being at the center of the formation. He feels like he’s closer to Voltron’s nervous system. He feels less like he’s piloting and more like he’s just _existing_ , feeling the movements and thoughts from his teammates in the back of his mind. As they come together Lance takes a calming breath to push out the sudden awareness of four other people’s nerves over the situation.

“Let’s see what Lotor’s been hiding out here,” he says, pushing forward into the wrecked spikes of the planet.

It doesn’t take long before something...newer comes into view. A white circle of material, floating nearer to the surface of the planet. It has a similar vibe to the teludav.

“What the heck is that thing?” Hunk mutters, “It doesn’t really look like any Galra tech we’ve seen.”

“I’m running a scan on it now,” Pidge says. “I’m sending stuff over to you, Hunk.”

Allura’s voice chimes in as well, “I have a very unsettled feeling over this. Something...something isn’t right, here.”

Lance has to agree with her, something has him way on edge. He keeps thinking he’s seeing things out of the corner of his eye, like the movement of a shadow. He swallows thickly. “Any luck Pidge?”

“It’s...the only thing we’ve seen that’s similar is the teludav but something else-there’s something else that’s familiar—”

“I understand your hesitation in observing the ring, but it is the only way to obtain access to the quintessence,” Lotor’s voice cuts through the communications. Lance flinches, remembering that they’d given him permission to access the comms in case he needed to give them some direction. He regrets it now.

“We’re getting there, dude. Calm down,” Lance grits out, slowly pushing forward. “How’s it looking, Pidge?”

“I’m still trying to get a read on it—”

There’s a ragged gasp over the comms and Lance freezes, blood running cold. “Who was th—”

“Somethings _wrong_ ,” Allura says, voice strained. “The energy here, it, it’s…”

“The alternate reality,” Pidge cuts back in, panicked. “It has the same energy readings from before. That’s a hole being punched through space time—”

“Alternate reality? What the hell are you guys talking about?” Keith asks, sounding aggravated and a bit nervous.

“We’ll fill you in on it later, dude. More important thing, why the heck does Lotor have this?” Hunk asks frantically.

A low growl of frustration rolls over the comms, Allura’s voice low with anger. “He’s reopening the rift that tore Daibazaal apart. This is the power that drove Haggar and Zarkon mad. This is what Zarkon _killed_ my father over.”

“And he wants us to mess with it more?? Is he insane?! We’re backing out of this right now!” Lance says, quickly reaching for his controls.

Except…

His hands freeze inches from the levers. His back straightens against his will, something shifting against his skin to inhibit his movements. There’s a loud curse over the comms.

“Is uh, anyone else not able to move?” Hunk asks. “Or is this just a thing that’s happening on my end?”

“No I can’t move either,” Lance replies, “What the cheese is going—”

His hands suddenly move on their own, it feels like his gloves are alive and bending his fingers against his will. The controls still react to his touch, and Voltron moves forwards.

“I had a feeling you would find fault with my plan,” Lotor’s voice cuts back in. There’s a unified shout among the team. “So I made sure that I had a contingency or two. Do you like the new suits? I had them custom made,” his voice slicks over the comms like oil, and Lance wishes his hands were free just so he could cover his ears.

“No, actually, kinda hating them right now!” Hunk grunts over the line.

“Coran! Can you hear us, we need assistance!” Allura calls out. There’s only Lotor’s laugh in response.

“I may have also made a few tweaks to the communications in the castle as well. Now, let’s get started.”

Lance reels as his body is jerked forward, until Voltron is right on top of the gate. In a pulse of light it powers up, bright yellow swirling in the center. Suddenly a host of small ships jump out of hyperspace to surround them, strange empty pods mounted on their backs. Voltron leans down, since it feels like it’s acting on its own, and reaches into the swirling light. Power ripples through the systems and Allura cries out over the comms.

“We cannot, it isn’t safe disturbing this- agh!” she screams as another, larger wave hits them.

“It seems that Voltron reacts better to the tear between dimensions than I thought it would. Why build your own ship to tear through space time when you can just borrow one?” Lotor says airily.

Keith curses over the line. “Shit, I’m going to strangle him, I need to fucking—”

“Revenge later, plan now!” Pidge yells, as her Lion digs further into the energy. The ships pull closer and start to absorb the energy into the containers they carry, slowly filling up with a bright yellow substance.

“I can’t fight against it, it’s like our suits have a mind of their own!” Lance yells back, desperately trying to drag his hands away from the controls. Desperation claws up his throat, all he can do is move his head from side to side. There’s nothing he can do. There’s a buzz digging under his skin as they sink deeper into the rift, energy overwhelming his senses. It feels like it’s crawling inside him, burning everything in its wake. Tears streak down his face and they leave cool tracks against his burning skin.

“An incredibly skilled Lexrite made some wonderful alterations. It’s amazing what zepto-technology can do these days,” Lotor drawls, almost sounding bored. There’s a muffled explosion over the comms. “Oh, it seems like your friends finally figured out where I’ve been hiding. How long do you think it will take for them to break down the triple dead locked door? My guess is another twenty dobashes.”

Lance grits his teeth and refuses to rise to Lotor’s taunts. He stops trying to jerk away from the controls and instead lets his head rest forward and concentrate. His skin crawls as he watches his hands move without his permission, coupled with the blazing energy that’s being torn from the universe in front of him. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath.

There’s a brush against his mind, so faint he barely registers it. 

He shuts out everything around him, not focusing on Lotor’s words, his teammates’ screams of frustration or the rising feeling of panic. It takes a moment, but suddenly he’s disconnected from his body, hovering in the in-between space where Paladins can communicate with their Lions.

_Stop this_ , Black echoes in his mind. _Make it stop._

_How_ , Lance thinks back, _I need to know how._

_Make **us** stop_ , Black pleads, and Lance can feel an underlying shiver as a ripple of energy courses through Voltron. Lance _can’t_ stop it, though. He can’t move his hands, or pull away, or even move from the controls. Al he can do is sit and beg with his Lion—

Wait.

“Allura!” Lance calls out over the line. There’s silence for a few moments before he can hear Allura’s ragged breaths.

“Yes, what...what is it?” she says. Her voice sounds too faint.

Lance’s stomach twists. “We need to cut power to the Lions; we can’t let Voltron continue to tear open this rift!”

“That might work!” Pidge says, a bit frantic in her fear but excited as well.

“Lance,” Keith sighs his name over the comms and he sounds so proud that Lance’s heart swells in his chest.

“How do we do that though? Even if there was an off switch it’s not like we can reach it right now!” Hunk interjects.

“Exactly, so it is useless to try—”

“The Lions are powered by our intentions and our connection to them. If-if we draw away from our bond that should shut them down,” Allura explains, quickly cutting Lotor off. It sounds dangerous, pulling away from the one thing keeping you alive out in the vacuum of space, but Lance figures it’s worth a shot.

“Alright, you heard the princess! Focus, everyone!”

Shutting out the distractions again, Lance closes his eyes and tries to think of anything else. He imagines he’s no longer in the Black Lion; he’s on his bed back at the castle, reading a message from Hunk on his comm-

No, farther than that, he can still feel the tug of his Lion in his subconscious. He’s on a planet, any planet, talking to the locals, looking at a cool broadsword he thinks Keith would get a kick out of; it’s so over the top and ridiculous. But in this scenario he’s still wearing his armor, still has his bayard at his hip. He is still is connected to his Lion.

Farther. He has to imagine farther.

The beach at night, right at sunset. The sand still a hazy blue in the darkness, shadows heavy. There’s no one else out at night, just Lance, the waves and the wind blowing his hair. The water crashes gentle on the shore, a steady and repeating rush of sound. His thoughts are blank, or so vague that they’re more impressions than anything else. He sits and watches the waves crash as the light fades.

Lance opens his eyes to a dark cockpit. There’s absolute silence as he stares out at the swirling energy. It seems to shrink, but no, that’s not right, Voltron is drifting away from the device and into space.

“You did it,” Keith whispers, and even though it’s through the headset in Lance’s helmet it feels like Keith is right in the cockpit with him, leaning against his shoulder and smiling. A bit of the tension bleeds out of Lance’s system.

 “No! You can’t just turn Voltron _off_ ,” Lotor yells, and Lance’s hands jerk violently on the controls, trying to get it to work once more.

“Better luck next time, loser,” Lance says, letting his muscles relax so he’s not overly strained by the involuntary movements of his limbs.

“Really? The best you have is loser?” Keith asks. Pidge snorts.

“What it’s like Lotor, but Loser instead, do you get it?” Lance explains.

“That was weak, dude, have to admit,” Hunk adds on top of the other teasing.

Another explosion goes off in the headsets, louder than the previous one. Lance jumps a bit as the castle’s defense systems power up and shoot down the quintessence containment cruisers with brutal efficiency. A few quickly fly away to escape the onslaught.

“How dare you, after all of that-! Fine, if this is all I can get then I suppose it’s time to take my leave of you,” Lotor says and the line crackles a bit as he disconnects. A bay door on the castle opens and Lotor’s custom ship speeds out after the cruisers.

More static fills the lines and a voice cuts through “-aladins? Allura? Can you hear me? Are you alright?” Coran yells into their ears. Allura chuckles softly.

“Yes, Coran, we’re fine thanks to Lance’s quick thinking.”

“What a relief! Please, make your way back to the castle so we can start to figure out what to do with this abomination. And Princess, I will apologize in advance for the damage done to the castle while we were attempting to get to Lotor. We may have gone a bit...overboard with the firepower.”

“Sorry about that,” Matt mutters sheepishly.

“And I’ve got an eye on where Lotor is headed- oh wait. He’s kicked in his hyperdrive, we can’t track him now,” Shiro says, sounding defeated. (Or maybe it was Takashi? Lance can’t tell the difference with just his voice.)

“I messed with his ship in so many different ways, if he doesn’t break down it’ll be a miracle,” Pidge assures him. “I doubt he was able to find all of the modifications before he took off.”

“Here’s to hoping he blew up,” Keith says, voice dark.

“Yeah, we hate Lotor and all that jazz. Can we get back to the ship? I really want to get out of my possessed Paladin suit and maybe burn it,” Hunk says. Lance agrees. He’s still tense from the battle and having his body controlled against his will. He goes to move his hand to stretch, but finds it’s still stuck in place. 

“Uhhh, is anyone else still frozen?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then a collective groan.

“MAAAATT, find the computer he was using and fix this!” Pidge says, sounding absolutely done.

“I’m looking! Hold your space horses,” Matt replies.

Lance rests his heat back against his seat, glad he has one part of his body he can still control. He closes his eyes and allows himself to relax. Lotor might have escaped, but Lance had wanted him gone from day one so it wasn’t too big of a loss. The team had made it out in one piece as well, so in his books he’d mark this down as another successful mission led by the great Black Paladin Lance.

***

Keith is sore all over as he exits his Lion, so much so that he can hear Red’s rumble of concern as he trips over his own feet on the way out.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, mostly to himself. He knows that he has at least one dislocated wrist from fighting too hard against Lotor’s control, as well as a broken finger or two from tightening his grip on the controls to try and prevent them from being used. His neck is sore from thrashing as well, it being the one area he could actually move properly.

The bay door towards the Black Lion opens, and Lance comes rushing towards him, his smile blinding. Keith is nearly knocked off his feet as Lance collides with him.

“Good to see you back in one piece!” Lance says into the crook of Keith’s neck. Keith gingerly wraps his arms around Lance as well, careful not to jostle his hands.

“Same to you,” he says, smiling as Lance grips him tighter. Keith pulls back to say something else, but is interrupted by a quick kiss from Lance. He leans into it without thinking, glad to have some outlet for the warmth in his chest every time Lance holds him like this. It barely lasts a few ticks before Lance takes a step back.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I want to help Allura out of her Lion, she sounded pretty winded from all of that energy back there,” Lance explains as he catches sight of Keith’s expression. He leans in and gives him another quick kiss. “We have plenty of time for this later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Keith says, falling in step besides Lance as they quickly make their way through the Red Lion’s hangar towards Blue’s.

Allura has made her way from her Lion, but looks shaky and pale from the experience. She falters as Keith runs up to her, and she loses her balance for a moment. Reaching out to steady herself, she grabs onto Keith’s wrist. He isn’t able to fight back a hiss of pain and a wince.

Lance is at his side in a second, getting an arm under Allura’s shoulders and holding her up.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just a bit lightheaded,” she protests, but doesn’t push Lance away. Her eyes bore into Keith’s, before quickly flicking down towards his hands. “Were you injured?” she asks, concern flooding her tone. Keith sighs, it’s just like her to fight off people caring for her and turning around to help someone else. 

“I’m alright, it’s nothing major,” he says. Minor things like dislocated joints weren’t given much thought with the Blades. He could try and pop his wrist back in later, and bind up his fingers so they can set back in place. He’s had to do it before, even out in the desert once or twice when he was careless. Luckily Lance doesn’t see his mistake, or how he holds his hands, so he’s in the clear. Keith doesn’t want him to worry over something so unimportant.

Keith reaches out to help Lance on Allura’s other side but Lance waves him off. “Let me be the rough and tough leader here, hot head,” Lance says lightly. Keith has a feeling there’s something else he wants to say, but he’s not sure what. He lets Lance and Allura lead the way to the healing pods to help replenish Allura’s energy.

“I assure you, it isn’t necessary,” Allura protests, all the way up to the pods. She’s leaning most of her weight against Lance, head resting on his shoulder.

“Mmhmm, you keep saying that and I keep seeing you absolutely wiped out from that whole shindig. A couple of dobashes in the pod won’t hurt anything,” Lance says. Allura’s resistance crumbles as she sees the healing room, and is led willingly into a waiting pod. She gives Keith and Lance a smile as Lance helps her in.

“Thank you for the help, and for the plan today,” Allura whispers. Lance flushes a bit, which Keith finds obnoxiously endearing.

“Nah, you were the one to actually suggest how to power down the Lions. I just helped you get there.”

She laughs gently as she rests her head back. “We are even, then.” She closes her eyes as Lance hits the button to power up the device. Quickly the glass shoots out to cover her, quickly freezing her in place.

Lance stares at her for a moment, before whipping around to give Keith a knowing look. “So now that Allura’s settled it’s your turn. Pick a pod, any pod,” he says, gesturing widely to the ring of healing equipment. Keith curses under his breath.

“Didn’t I say it was—”

“Nothing serious, uh-huh, you did, but,” Lance says as he reaches out to gently take Keith’s hands in his. Keith can’t hide the wince of pain from his face. “Yeah, right there. Healing pod time, buddy.”

“It’s just a broken finger and a sprained wrist, it’s nothing—”

Lance’s expression sours. “It’s not _nothing_. You’re hurt, and nothing in the medbay can heal you faster than getting in a pod. You’ll be in there for like, fifteen dobashes tops—”

“Lance, really, it’s fine. I get this and worse with the Blades all the time, I’m used to it,” he argues back. Lance’s face twists into something that Keith can’t quite identify, before settling into a weary frown.

“I wish...why don’t you...” he chokes on his words before he clears his throat. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, mullet. Just hop in and take a rest for a half varga. Please,” Lance says and looks at him, something bigger hiding behind his words again. Keith’s heart twists at how much concern Lance is showing him. It’s strange, Keith isn’t used to people being worried over him.

“Fine,” he finds himself muttering, not wanting to push the issue any further. Lance grins, like he’s won something bigger than a silly argument. He calls up the pod next to Allura and sets it up for Keith.

“After you, sleeping beauty,” Lance says. Keith hip checks him on the way in, knocking Lance off balance. “Oof, hey! And to think I was going to wait for you to get out!”

Keith settles back into the pod, leaning his head against the cool surface. “You don’t have to wait for me,” he assures Lance. Even if it ends up being a short stint in the pod, there’s no reason for Lance to wait around for him. Lance’s hurt expression drops, replaced with the smile he has that looks so fond it’s almost overwhelming.

“I’m just kidding, of course I’m staying. See you in a few,” he says, and presses a button on the side of the device. The glass quickly comes down and Keith lets the rush of cold overtake him.

***

Lance stays true to his word and helps Keith out of the pod and back towards his room after twenty dobashes. The team meeting has been postponed until Allura wakes up, so it’s not like they’re skipping anything important by heading to bed. Even with his hands healed, Keith feels tired and ready for a long rest.

They both change out of their Paladin armor, Lance leaves his in a pile on the floor while Keith stacks his carefully in case he needs to get it on quickly. Lance chucks their underarmor into his trash recycler.

“Not taking any chances,” he says when Keith gives him a questioning look. It doesn’t take much longer after that to get in their pajamas and clean their teeth with Altean mouth wash (gargle and drink and you’re done!). Lance gets into bed while Keith does his nightly stretches, working out the tension from the day and the stiffness in his muscles from being frozen in the pod. He catches Lance watching him once or twice before quickly turning away to look back at his comm, ears flushed a little darker.

After stretching, Keith pulls the covers back and slides in next to Lance. The bed is warm already thanks to Lance’s body heat; he shifts over so Keith can fit in easily next to him. Keith doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this, the feeling of calm that sweeps over him as he relaxes into the bed. That, and he wakes up warm and refreshed to a good morning kiss, even if he has to share Lance’s nasty morning breath. Keith pushed him off the bed for that one morning. He pushes his face into his pillow to get comfortable, and then looks over to Lance.

He’s looking straight back at him. Doesn’t even flinch when Keith catches him at it.

Lance works a hand between them to lace their fingers together, rubbing his thumb along the Keith’s skin. The sensation is barely anything, but Keith can’t help but focus closely on it. He’s not all that good at initiating the touching; he’s not sure what Lance likes. But it seems like Lance knows exactly what Keith needs, and Keith wouldn’t mind having Lance’s hands on him for hours. A memory pops into his mind of Lance’s hand kneading circles into his back as he cried. The crying he could do without, but he’s definitely interested in the idea of large warm hands running their way up and down his back. A small shiver works its way through him at the thought.

“Hmmm, I think I could get used to this, you hogging up half my bed,” Lance says as he gently let’s go of Keith’s hand.

Keith stops to think. “If it’s not enough room we could try and find another one of those Altean blow up mattre—” 

He stills as Lance’s hand brushes up against his jaw, thumb sweeping along the rise of his cheek. He automatically turns into the touch.

Lance laughs. “If the bed was bigger it would be a lot harder to do this.” The mattress dips as Lance leans in, lips lightly brushing over Keith’s. He leans into it, minimizing the distance between them.

How did Keith ever think he didn’t need this? Or that he could get by without it? He can feel Lance’s hand cupping his cheek, tilting him so that his nose stops digging into Lance’s skin. Lips tingle with unfamiliar nerve endings, so close to each other but somehow still not enough. Keith’s hand runs its way up Lance’s chest, along his jaw, then to grip the back of his neck.

There’s a smile against his lips. Lance pulls back as far as he can with Keith’s hand keeping him in place. 

“These goodnight kisses are getting a bit over the top.”

“Who said I was done?” Keith asks, annoyed. Lance wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“Oh ho ho, I knew you wanted a piece of this,” he says, absolutely full of himself. It doesn’t matter that he’s right.

“Shut up,” Keith mutters and pulls Lance back to him. For whatever reason, it still isn’t enough, even when Keith runs his tongue along the seam of Lance’s lips to get a taste of him. The breath between them hitches, and Lance replies in kind, mouth working its way open to allow more room to explore. Lance’s hand works its way up from Keith’s cheek into the hair at his nape, carding through it slow and firm. Nerve endings spark in every direction and shivers work down Keith’s spine. He needs _more_ , more points of contact, more surface area. 

It doesn’t take much to push Lance onto his back instead of his side. Keith barely thinks as he rolls on top of Lance, finding his lips again in the dark. It’s absolutely perfect; he can feel every inch of warmth coming from Lance’s body, every shift. He can feel the rumble of Lance’s chest as he makes a sound that’s too quickly swallowed by their kiss. Keith could do this for hours, this slow and heated back and forth.

Keith shifts to get a better angle, only to feel the body underneath him freeze. Lance pulls his face back the few inches he can; Keith hasn’t given him a lot of room to maneuver when he rolled on top of him. The hand at the back of his head relocates to his hip, which seems like a step in the right direction, but it gently pushes him away.

“Hey uh,” Lance says, the pauses to clear his throat. His voice climbs back up to its regular pitch. “I need to take a breather. Or, uh, how about we get to sleep? Early to bed early to rise?”

Keith quirks an eyebrow up. “But you don’t like getting up early. At all. Tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s a groan of frustration as Lance rolls away a bit, hands slapping across his face to cover his expression. “You really don’t-? I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, you’re a teenage boy too for crying out loud!” his voice climbs even higher in embarrassment. Keith rolls his eyes. He reaches forward and drags a hand away from Lance’s face to glare at him.

“I can’t read your mind, just tell me what it was so I know not to do it next time.”

“Not to-?? No I definitely want you to do me next time—” his eyes grow dangerously wide, and he bolts up right next to Keith, “DO IT. DO WHATEVER IT WAS THAT YOU WERE DOING IT’S FINE DON’T LISTEN TO ME,” he yells. Even in the dim light it’s easy to see the flush covering his face. He looks two ticks away from bolting out of his own room. 

Keith sits up to block his exit, and then uses a hand to push Lance roughly back down onto the mattress with a deep _Oof_.  Lance looks up at him, startled, eyes so dark they reflect the dim lights perfectly. Keith can feel under his palm that Lance is holding his breath. It suddenly clicks in place.

“Oh, you were getting into it,” he says, glad to understand. Lance takes a deep calming breath. 

“Yeah, so if you give me a tick I can get it under control and we can get to sleep. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Lance looks at him guiltily. “I dunno, it didn’t seem like you were comfortable with it? We’ve spent the past week in the same bed and you seem totally happy just to get to sleep, so I thought you weren’t ready for that yet?” Lance explains in a rush. Keith looks down at him.

“I...I honestly forgot that was an option.”

Lance’s face falls blank. Silence fills the room for a few heartbeats.

“How could you _forget about sex_?!” Lance yells up at him, utterly bewildered.

It’s the last straw; the whole conversation and situation are just too absurd. Keith bursts out laughing as Lance scrambles to sit up next to him.

“I just!” he tries to catch his breath around his laughter, “I guess I don’t think about it too much? If I ever get in the mood I just jack off real quick and then forget about it—”

“What the hell man! I can barely _stop_ thinking about it!”

“Isn’t that what they say? Guys think about sex every 10 seconds?”

Lance scowls. “Not that often!” He pauses as a thought crosses his mind. “So what are you...are you just not interested in that stuff at all? Or anymore? I-I mean it’s totally fine if you’re not, like, I know that’s a thing.”

There’s silence as Keith thinks. “It’s not that I don’t want to its more...that it’s not a priority.” 

 “But you might want to.”

“Has it been ten seconds already?”

Lance smiles, “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I want to.”

“Ok, good to know for the future. I’ll definitely keep it in mind—”

Keith cuts him off by leaning forward and kissing him again, hand at the back of his head to draw him closer. There’s a surprised hum against his lips, but Lance doesn’t pull away. He melts once more against Keith. With a gentle push, Keith guides Lance back down onto the bed.

“O-o-oh right now?” Lance whispers faintly. He gasps a bit as Keith runs his lips down the column of his throat.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Solid reasoning,” Lance chokes out. 

Lips find each other once more in the dark. Keith slowly runs his hand down Lance’s chest, flattening it out as he reaches the edge of soft pajama bottoms. He pauses with his fingers just under the hem, Lance’s stomach muscles jumping away from his touch.

“You good?” he mutters softly against Lance’s lips.

“Doin’ great. About to be doing wonderful if you get your hand on me.”

Keith laughs and slides his hand the rest of the way down Lance’s boxers. Theres a jolt underneath him as he wraps his hand around Lance. Keith runs his hand from the base up to the tip to find him already leaking pre come. That makes it easier to glide back down, fist slick. He does a few more experimental pumps and listens to the noises Lance makes in response.

After the few slow tugs, Keith sets into his usual rhythm. Fast and tight to chase the feeling and come gasping against his sheets as quickly as he can. He never saw the point in taking his time, even when he was living by himself. There were far too many other things he needed to focus on.

Lance gasps and curls in on himself, closer to Keith which is wonderful, but makes the angle for Keith’s wrist a bit awkward. A hand grabs blindly for him, landing on his back and _tugging_ on his shirt. There’s heated breath panting against his neck, and lips working soundlessly against his skin. Keith’s stomach flips unexpectedly at the sensation.

“Shit-Keith, god. Slow—” his voice cuts out with a low and gravely moan, which hits Keith with a rush of warmth.

The heat at his neck falls away as Lance arches back, head colliding into his pillow. Fingers scrape down Keith’s back, nails blunted by the fabric of his shirt. Lance’s eyes are screwed tight, breath coming in stuttering gasps. Keith follows him down, can’t ignore the long stretch of Lance’s throat with the way it’s angled. He runs his tongue up along a tendon, lips pausing at the jugular to suck in a bruising kiss or three. On the way back down he lets the blunt edges of his teeth scrape skin.

“Fuck!” Lance’s eyes fly open, jaw snapping shut to muffle the moan rolling through his chest. Keith focuses his efforts around the head of Lance’s cock, working him through his orgasm in short tight pumps. “St-stop, good, too much—”

Keith gradually slows his hand as Lance collapses further into the pillows. His breath heaves like he just finished running a marathon. Keith wipes his hand off on the inside of Lance’s boxers and hopes he’s too out of it to notice. After a dobash Lance works his eyes open to look over, his face slowly pulling into a ridiculous grin. He begins to laugh.

“What?!” Keith asks, trying to piece together what could possibly be funny. 

“Is _that_ how you jerk off? You nearly yanked my dick off, dude. I haven’t come that quickly since I was like, thirteen,” he says between giggles.

“It’s not my fault you came so quick.”

“It was your hand on my junk, so it’s 100% your responsibility. I feel like I was just hit by a _train_ ,” Lance rolls his neck to stretch his muscles back out. He shifts and winces. Probably at the wet spot in his boxers.

The heat that Keith was feeling is quickly fading into something easily ignored. He frowns, trying not to feel too put out. “What do you do then? Drag it out for hours?”

Lance looks back at him, a smaller smile curling its way across his face. “Something like that.” He pauses, suddenly looking self-conscious. “Hey...would you mind if I took these off? They’re getting uncomfortable,” he says, motioning towards his legs.

“My hand was literally just on your penis,” Keith says flatly.

“Shut your quiznak,” Lance shoots back as he works his way out of his pajamas and boxers underneath the covers. They get balled up and tossed across the room. Lance’s calf brushes up against Keith’s and suddenly it’s skin on skin, leg hair prickling against him. The idea crosses his mind that he could run his hands up and down Lance, feeling every bunch of muscles. He swallows thickly.

“Are you going to be able to sleep without those on?” Keith asks instead. His question is ignored as Lance rolls on his side, pulling Keith towards him to slowly kiss lips that were beginning to get sore. The oversensitive skin picks up on every slide and bit of pressure. Lance pulls back so that their lips brush on every other word.

“I like things slower, I want to build up to it, make it last,” he explains. His words come out a bit hypnotic. Keith just nods. “And usually I’ll at least slide my boxers off a bit before I start.”

Keith huffs. “It was either them or getting it on the sheets,” he reasons. It’s apparently not worth the argument as Lance leans forward to kiss him again. A hand settles against his lower back, and Keith shivers at the contact. Fingers then duck under the fabric of his shirt and trail feather light up his spine. The hint of heat from Lance’s skin has Keith sighing, low and shaky. He reaches out to hold onto something, and grips onto Lance’s bare hip.

“You’re so sensitive,” Lance whispers, almost to himself. The palm of his hand flattens, and the warmth of it stings Keith’s skin.

“Feel’s nice,” Keith mutters back. Lance’s hand drags its way across his skin, nails scratching gently on the end of the stroke.

“And how ‘bout this? You seemed to like it before.”

The heat is gone from Keith’s back, and after a moment he feels fingers sliding their way through the hair at the base of his neck. He shudders into the touch, thousands of nerve endings sparking at once. He has no idea why his scalp is so sensitive. Lance plays with his hair and bites gently on his bottom lip. The moan that escapes Keith’s throat is louder than he expects.

“God, you’re not allowed to _sound_ like that,” Lance complains. Keith smirks.

“What do you want me to sound like?” he challenges. Lance tugs his hair a bit too hard to get back at him.

“You could be quieter so you don’t give me a freaking heart attack,” Lance says, ducking down to run his lips lightly along Keith’s jawline, who stays silent so he doesn’t disrupt his path. He moves on to press kisses down Keith’s throat.

“What’s wrong with being loud?” Keith asks teasingly, now that his jaw is free. His voice sounds deeper in his ears.

“For me it was stay quiet or get heard through every thin wall in the house,” Lance explains against Keith’s collar bones. His hot breath fans across Keith’s skin.

“You don’t have to be quiet in the desert.”

Lance snorts. “You were just out there jerking it so loud that you disturbed local wildlife.” 

“No wonder I never saw anything out there,” he says, causing Lance to burst out laughing. He ducks his head down into Keith’s shoulder as he cackles.

“They say the cabin out in the middle of the desert is haunted, at night you can hear strange screams and moans—” Lance breaks off to laugh once more.

Keith laughs too, heart feeling like it’s going to jump out of his chest. Lance’s weight pushes him over until he’s on his back, half covered in a giggling Lance. He works his hand out from under the covers to run his fingers through soft brown hair, feeling Lance’s nose shift against his throat.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Keith huffs.

“I can’t believe you’re an actual cryptid,” Lance says against his neck.

Keith opens his mouth to reply, but stops at the brush of Lance’s hand running down his side. It works its way over the soft material of his shirt down to rest lightly on Keith’s hip. His pulse jumps in his throat, his hands unconsciously tightening in Lance’s hair. He’s painfully hard in his boxers, something he didn’t notice until right now, too distracted by other sensations. Lance’s thumb rubs gently against the exposed skin at his waist, causing him to shudder. A kiss calms him at his throat.

“Is it alright if I—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith says emphatically, ready to agree to whatever idea Lance has. He pulls away to look down at Keith, wordlessly moving his hand down farther and palming Keith over his boxers. A gasp escapes Keith’s throat, head falling back into the mattress. It’s different, it’s so different from when it’s just Keith’s own hand touching himself because this is Lance. Lance who takes the time to listen to him, to take him apart piece by piece. Who is looking down at him like he can’t even believe this is happening. Lance bites his lip when he realizes that Keith is staring up at him, his hand pressing more firmly. 

“I-I want...can I see you?” Lance asks, shifting the blanket on top of them a bit. Keith nods, not really caring as long as Lance was planning to keep his hand right where it was. 

The covers disappear as Lance pushes them down with his foot, getting bunched up near the end of the bed. Keith shivers at the sudden cold, not realizing how much heat was trapped underneath the blankets. He can now see Lance’s hand in the dim light, cupping him over the grey material of his boxers. Lance grinds his palm down one more time before sitting up a bit. He now has two free hands which slowly tug down Keith’s boxers. Lance looks transfixed, and Jesus, did he just lick his lips? The first touch of skin on skin drags a low and long groan from Keith’s throat, eyes shut tight. One hand slowly works Keith’s cock which, oh god. The contrast of Lance’s hand against his skin, the fact that he can see the scars and feel the calluses on his palms and just know that it’s _Lance_ is overwhelming. Lance’s other hand slowly slides up his stomach, rucking the fabric of his shirt up to his chest.

“God you have an eighteen pack, this is ridiculous,” Lance mutters, fingers tracing slowly over the muscles along Keith’s stomach, making them twitch. A slow, tight tug along his cock has Keith seeing stars. He realizes, slowly, that Lance still has his shirt on as he kneels next to him. Keith reaches out to tug on the hem.

“I want to see you too,” he rasps. Lance smiles, looking a bit shy.

“Yeah?”

“Please, need to see you,” Keith says, pulling on Lance’s shirt more. Lance sits back a bit to pull his shirt off from behind his neck, pulling it over his head.

Keith’s hand immediately seeks the exposed skin, running along Lance’s thigh and up the side of his ribs. Lance smirks.

“You liking the view?” Lance asks, voice warm with teasing. Keith nods automatically, eyes trailing every inch of Lance.

“Yeah, it’s you,” Keith says honestly. The flush of Lance’s skin grows deeper. Another twist of Lance’s hand has Keith gasping. Lance leans down and kisses Keith messily, all finesse and technique lost.

“I wanna try something,” Lance says into his lips. The hand on Keith’s dick disappears. “I-it might be weird? If it’s too weird just let me know, uh—”

Lance twists to rearrange the pillows behind him, sitting up against them and the wall. Keith feels sluggish as he pushes up on one arm to face Lance.

“What are you—”

“Just, sit in front of me and I’ll show you. And maybe take your shirt off?”

Keith quickly reaches down and tugs his shirt up and over his head, tossing it away as well. Kicking his boxers the rest of the way down, he moves to sit in front of Lance. Hands maneuver him to Lance’s liking and Keith finds himself bracketed between Lance’s legs, his back flush against a warm chest. It feels like they’re touching absolutely everywhere. 

“I, uh. I thought I could show you better like this,” Lance explains and his voice is right next to Keith’s ear, his breath against his skin. A slick hand touches Keith on the hip. “How I do it, by myself,” he adds as an explanation. Keith isn’t sure if words are a thing he can completely understand right now.

Lance reaches under Keith’s arms, one hand returning to his heated skin. There’s a gasp as Keith sinks backwards into Lance, and he’s not sure which of them it came from. One hand has returned to work his dick slowly, while another is rubbing circles into the crease of his thigh. Lance has his chin pressed into Keith’s shoulder, looking down at where his hands massage skin. Keith holds onto Lance’s thighs for dear life as fingers slowly work their way towards his balls. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, head falling back against Lance’s shoulder. There’s a chuckle next to his ear as Lance presses a quick kiss to his throat. Lance palms him, other hand twisting wickedly around his cock.

“Yeah? Oh, wait a sec,” Lance pauses to reach for something tucked between the bed and the wall. Keith uses the time to catch his breath and work his way back from the edge. “Here we go. Can’t forget this.”

Keith tilts his head forward to see Lance working the top off of a bottle, tipping it to pour something out.

“Is that—?”

“Lube? Yup,” Lance replies, emphasizing the p, “Found it at the space mall when we did a performance there. I got sick of using all my good lotion.”

The added slickness of Lance’s hand makes a _huge_ difference. And...there’s something a bit extra? Something sparking Keith’s nerve endings even more and he’s gasping and pushing up into Lance’s fist. 

“Is it- Holy shit- is it supposed to—?”

“Tingle? Yeah, uh, I was surprised too when I first tried it,” Lance says. He sounds out of breath. Keith rolls his hips once more and feels something against his lower back. Lance groans into his shoulder.

“Already?” Keith teases, laughing with the little breath he can spare. Lance pinches the inside of his thigh, making Keith jump. 

“Yeah? So what? I’m ready for round two and you haven’t even finished round one, who’s winning here?” Lance jokes, causing Keith to snort.

“I’ll do a better, hah shit- better job this time,” Keith pants as he struggles to stay upright. He tries to think what he can do for Lance that could come anywhere close to what Lance is doing for him, but his mind isn’t in the most productive state. He can’t keep his hips from bucking into Lance’s hands; he keeps feeling the slide of Lance hard behind him. 

“Don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that,” Lance says, and groans as Keith pushes his hips back with more force.

He’s quickly approaching the edge, breath growing labored and shallow. “Close,” he says, winded. Lance presses a kiss to the side of his throat. His hands slow down suddenly, and Keith nearly whines in frustration. Fingers trail feather light along the underside of his cock, heightening how sensitive the skin feels. Lance’s thumb gently slides across the head, drawing out a moan. Then with no warning Lance grips him tight and sets the pace far faster, and Keith is jerking in his arms, hands clawing into the sheets, into Lance’s thigh. Sound is muffled in his ears, he can’t hear over his own stuttered breaths. Lance’s hand gentles, lightly working him through it, fingers still teasing the sensitive head of his dick. After what feels like ages Keith collapses back, eyes wide, panting.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. There’s a snort behind him.

“That good, huh?” Lance asks, teasing. Keith doesn’t answer, doesn’t tell Lance that his legs are still twitching from the aftermath. He rolls around to face Lance and seeks his lips, grabbing onto his face (maybe a bit too forcefully) to drag him in for a kiss.

Maybe Lance was right, Keith does feel like he’s been hit with a train. He feels wrung out, fuzzy along the edges. Exhaustion pulls at him, drags at his limbs. Lance must feel it in how sloppy the kiss gets, Keith barely able to keep up. Lance shifts him out from between his legs to his side, where Keith curls up against him appreciatively. He rests his head against Lance’s shoulder.

“Sorry, that wiped me out,” Keith says into Lance’s skin. He makes an effort to get his hand on Lance again, but he’s batted away.

“Don’t worry, I, hah, got this,” Lance says, taking matters into his own hands, quite literally. Keith watches as he works himself, trying to remember the movements, what he likes.

“What can I do?” Keith asks, hand hesitant over Lance’s chest. 

“How about some dirty talk?” Lance suggests. Keith mind comes up blank.

“Uh...”

“Figures, you said you- mmm- you don’t think about this a lot,” Lance says, head tilting back into the wall behind him.

“You talk, then, tell me what you think about,” Keith says.

Lance laughs in one burst, looking over to Keith, “I think about a lot of things.”

“Tell me then,” Keith insists. The smile is wiped from Lance’s face as he focus falls to Keith’s lips. He swallows heavily.

“The shower,” he says, and Keith rolls his eyes, “No, you don’t get it, I nearly lost my _mind_ when you were telling us. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten off in there? I think I associate running water with orgasms now and it’ssss your fault,” he hisses at the end, teeth biting down on his lower lip.

Keith imagines it, not the cold shower in the Garrison communal bathrooms, but having Lance under the water with him. Watching Lance’s muscles bunch under his skin as he washes his hair. Keith could touch him _everywhere_ , run his hands down slick skin and watch as Lance’s eyes lit up. What would Lance like, though? What did he think of when he was there by himself? Keith remembers Lance’s expression when he was pinned down on the bed, how dark his eyes quickly became.

“Do you think the partitions are sturdy enough in there?” he asks contemplatively.

“What?” Lance asks, only half listening.

“If I were to pin you against one of them,” Keith explains, relishing the look Lance gives him when he whips his head to stare at Keith. His breath comes out in a rush.

“Uh—” is all he manages to say. Keith smiles, glad to have figured something out on his own. He runs a hand down Lance’s arm to his free hand, loosely gripping his wrist and pulling it up over Lance’s head.

“I think my hand is big enough to hold both of your wrists,” Keith muses, trying to figure out the logistics. One hand to hold Lance’s wrists above his head against the wall, Keith pressed into his back, sucking kisses into his skin. His other hand wrapped around Lance to stroke him, his own erection pressed against Lance’s slick skin.

Yeah he could definitely get behind the idea.

“Holy fuck,” Lance breathes, staring at Keith with eyes like saucers. He’s frozen, his hand has stilled around his cock like he’s forgotten how to function. Its then that Keith realizes he said the rest of his thought out loud. It seems like he might have broken Lance.

“Just an idea,” Keith says and half shrugs. Lance groans, low and deep as his hand restarts its rhythm.

“H-how about - hah, you keep telling me these ideas?” he says, voice shaky.

Keith can feel his legs trembling against his own, can see his pulse jumping in his throat. He’s actually run short on ideas, but decides not to tell Lance that. He lets go of Lance’s wrist, trails his hand down Lance’s arm. He traces a line down Lance’s chest, enjoying the chance to touch wherever he wants to. Lance’s breath comes faster as Keith gets lower. Keith runs an experimental hand up the inside of Lance’s thighs, letting his fingernails scrape gently against sensitive skin. Lance’s legs fall open, breath ragged. Something about the sight tugs at Keith’s stomach.

“Here, let me,” he whispers as he lets his hand join Lance’s around his cock. Lance immediately jerks at the touch, coming undone in a matter of ticks. He turns to bury his face in Keith’s neck to muffle his voice, which feels wonderful with the vibration against his skin but Keith hopes that soon Lance won’t feel the need to stifle himself.

They both catch their breath as they cool down, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the gaming equipment in the corner. They’re both sticky with sweat and not sweat, they really should get up and shower but Keith feels far too boneless to think about moving.

“Are these walls soundproof?” he asks faintly, looking over to Lance. Lance groans softly.

“Jeez, I hope so,” he turns to nuzzle his face into the underside of Keith’s jaw. “Could you do me the biggest favor in the history of the universe?”

“I’m not getting up.”

“You’re the worst,” Lance mutters and in direct contrast presses a kiss to his jaw before rolling over to get up. Keith pouts.

“That doesn’t mean _you_ should get up,” he complains. Lance grabs a cleaner pair of pajamas off the floor, before tapping open a closet hidden in the wall. He tosses a sheet of something at Keith who recoils when he realizes whatever the thing is is damp.

“It’s a wipe. Gotta freshen up,” Lance says, giving himself a quick rub down. Keith follows suit, though he’s distracted every few ticks by how Lance twists and turns to cover every inch.

Soon enough Lance is back in bed with his new pajamas, snuggled in so close to Keith that he can barely breathe. He definitely doesn’t complain. Keith hasn’t felt this relaxed and comfortable in a very very long time. The realization rolls through his mind that he can have this, him and Lance happy together. There’s no guarantee how long it will last, but Keith lets himself get used to the idea that it _can_ last. For as long as he wants it to. Lance takes this moment to worm his hand towards Keith’s and laces their fingers together.

“Good night,” he whispers into the dark. Lance hums into the back of his neck.

“Night, Keith.”

And they sleep.


End file.
